Never So Serious
by SkyKissed
Summary: Post DK. After the Joker is brought in,officer Valentine is assigned to be his "keeper." Unfortunately for Gotham, the two of them seem to have a very different idea. On Hiatus for a bit.
1. Chapter 1: Reassignment

Sky: Well, here's my first attempt at writing a Batman story. It's also my first attempt at writing something even remotely serious and adult-ish. That's gonna take some work from me and some critiquing from you readers. Feel free to beat me over the head whenever you feel something in here needs to be changed. Also, it's the first time I've ever used a character of my own making as a lead. And, dear readers, it's your responsibility to scream out warnings to me if you feel she is slipping even remotely into the clutches of Sue-Dom. I shall then attempt to right the wrong.

Batman and all related characters are owned by DC comics. But Valentine, she's mine. Disclaimer is done, now onward to the story!

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**Chapter 1: Reassignment**

_Beep. BEEP. BEEP!_

The world was out to get her.

Lilith Valentine, poor soul, let out the slightest hiss of breath, barely lifting her head from her pillow to glare down the neon colored beastie perching with refined ease on her lamp stand, its face cheerily illuminated, mocking her, teasing her. All this was accompanied by its ever present shriek; the painful, thought shattering sound that seemed so bent on disturbing her sleep. _Every_ damn morning.

It was too early. It was _always _to early.

She repeated her hiss, reached out and hit the sleep button with more force then necessary. That clock had woken her from her fitful slumber at an unholy hour for the last six _years_, and for every one of those days, she wished the thing was a living, breathing being. After all, the only reason to hit someone so hard is to teach them a lesson.

Such as to shut up.

Unfortunately, no matter how many times she hit it, and no matter how hard she hit it, the damn thing would be there to rouse her in the morning. It would be the voice of reason that got her up out of bed and ready for work.

She hated that.

Muttering something distinctly unladylike, she threw the covers thanklessly to the side, swinging her legs over the beds edge. Ready or not, like it or not, it was time to greet the world with a painted smile.

God. It was _always_ to early.

_**G/O/T/H/A/M**_

That morning, the Gotham police station was in a singular state of disarray. It was never a particularly orderly place, but today was worse then usual. The newer recruits were scampering around, clinging to the more experienced officers with a seemingly non stop stream of questions, dancing around in a fitful attempt to catch a glimpse of their newest inmate. A task easier said then done, all things considered. Most of Gotham's reporters had managed to jam themselves into the offices for much the same purpose.

And, considering how fast they tended to go, Gotham had a _lot _of reporters.

Through all the chaos however, Commissioner Gordon stood as an immovable pillar of stability to the other officers, shouting out orders over the clamor, answering a question here and there to shut the reporters up, and, if not for him, one got the feeling the entire populace of the room would burst into fits of hysterics.

However, despite all this madness, he managed to catch sight of a lone officer moving away from the crowd, dark glasses shrouding its eyes, diminutive figure seeming somewhat hunched as it made its way unmolested to its desk. He crossed to the newcomer, grabbing its arm in a grip that seemed more like a vice then a welcoming greeting.

"Hey!" It squeaked in a distinctly female voice, "Watch the arm, watch the arm, commando! Delicate flower here, I bruise!"

"And a good morning to you as well, Valentine."

She pushed her glasses up enough so he could see the spark of disbelief springing to the fore in her blue eyes. Not that it was necessary, the sarcastic snort was enough to express her feelings on the matter. "That's something of an oxymoron, sir. All mornings are conniving, sleep stealing wretches."

The newly appointed Commissioner allowed himself a smile, snatching a cup of coffee from a passing intern and handing it to the slight woman. He assumed her ill temperament was the result of a hangover. He was right. She rolled her eyes, but accepted it with a grin and a quick nod of thanks.

From the other side of the room, another recruit called out his name, voice shrill from desperation. Gordon tossed her a final glance, " I'll be right back; don't go anywhere. I have something I need to talk to you about." Before the confused woman could offer a sincere good-bye, or, more likely, a snide retort, he was off.

Valentine rolled her eyes anew, sighing dramatically, before settling down into her chair. "That he has that much energy in this early has to be some sort of sin."

When Gordon finally did get around to getting back to her, it had been nearly half an hour. Most of the clamor had died down, the media had been escorted out and some semblance of peace had descended upon the already exhausted officers.

Valentine had, as per his orders, remained at her desk, her features twisted into a rather irate façade. In the earlier chaos, her desk, once an immaculate work space, had become both cluttered and disorderly, having been bumped one to many times by a frenzied recruit. From the way her thin brows were furrowed, it was obvious that, once the mess was cleaned up, the officer was going to make the afore mentioned recruits suffer.

"Valentine?' Her glare slid witheringly up to him. Her brown hair, which had a tendency towards rebellion on good days, had already begun its mission of escaping the loose tail she had bound it in, lending to her frenetic image. "You have a minute?"

"For someone who is constantly snagging me coffee? Always."

"You might want to sit down for this."

The young officers features quirked in good humor, "We haven't even dated and you're breaking up with me?" At his insisting look however, she settled back into her chair, motioning impatiently for him to continue.

"You realize a dangerous criminal was brought in to us today…." Her mouth opened wide as she prepared to deliver a sarcastic quip suited to parody the obviousness of his statement. Of course she'd known. Before even a syllable left her mouth however, the Commissioner was making a "shush" motion. "And I know you already knew so no need for your snappiness…"

He received a mock pout. "How do you expect me to be up to my game if you keep shushing me?"

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to practice later."

"Later isn't now." At his glare, she heaved an overexagerated sigh of defeat. "Fine, fine, dangerous criminal brought to us, yada, yada, yada, what do you need from me?"

The usually calm, sympathetic Gordon's lips twitched up in a smug smirk, his voice coming out as more of a delighted purr then a command, "You're going to watch him, of course."

"The Joker…?"

He nodded.

"You want me?" She jabbed a finger in her own direction. "To watch him?" She pointed to the area Gotham's most feared villain had departed from not half an hour ago.

He nodded again.

"You're demoting me."

"No, he's a dangerous man. His surveillance is a top priority."

"He's in a cell sir! A very metal cell, in a very concrete building full of police officers!"

"That didn't seem to phase him the last time."

She let out an aggravated huff. "Don't let him use his call this time and you'll be fine."

"Valentine…." His tone had taken on a warning tone, the kind that meant there was no more room for discussion. She had been stuck with this assignment. She was going to do it, whether it pleased her or not. "Look, all you have to do is sit down there and watch him. Try and get some information out of him. Try not to let him kill you. That kind of thing."

"Well aren't we a reassuring little ray of sunshine!" The poor woman gathered a few things from her desk that she might find vitality important during her sojourn, before rising, a dour air hanging about her previously good humored shoulders. Rather then looking like an officer than had been offered a chump case, she appeared as a woman being marched to her own funeral. "Fine. Let us off to the firing squad."

Commissioner Gordon smiled one of his genuinely kind, human, smiles, taking one of the small woman's arms in his own, leading her gingerly down the stairs. "Just don't let him get near you with a knife and you'll be fine."

He got a bitter little laugh in reply.

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Sky: Sweetness! First chapter done. Next time, we meet the Joker. (Drools) Now, if any of you have some suggestions on how to go about writing his characters, or have thoughts about how this story could become better, feel free to tell me. I love it. Till next time!


	2. Chapter 2: All Kinds Of Games

Sky: Thanks to all of you that reviewed last chapter, it gave me the inspiration to write this one up quickly. Not that it was hard, it does, after all have the Joker in it. Much chaos ensues. Enjoy, loves!

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**Chapter 2: All Kinds Of Games**

The walk to the holding cells seemed to have elongated since the last time she had used it. Time seemed to have slowed just for her as she made the walk of shame, the Commissioner at her side, still holding her arm, though whether it was to steady her or keep her from bolting was anyone's guess, a sad smile on his aged face.

They did finally arrive however, crossing from the more densely populated offices into the sparsely furnished cells. The room chosen for this inmate seemed no different from the others. Grey, cold, nothing provided for him save a chair, desk, and a little bed shoved aside in the corner. At the moment, her charge, and the subject of all her ire, was perched languidly on the edge of his seat, head cocked inquisitively to the side, watching them with the easy grace of a feral cat.

The Joker.

_Ugh. _

"Morning, _Co-missioner_," he purred, tipping an imaginary hat towards the man in mock salute. He offered a lewd grin as a greeting to Valentine, "Did you bring me a new toy to play with?"

Gordon clasped a hand hastily over the officers mouth before she could finish her latest tangent. This seemed to amuse the Joker. And that made the little woman even more volatile. " This is Officer Valentine. I've assigned her to supervise you for the duration of your stay here."

"She can't be worse then my last interrogator," he grinned, gaze sliding lecherously up her slender figure. "Something just tells me she won't be able to throw me around _quite_ so much as Batsy did."

"If you don't respect her authority I'll make sure "Batsy" drops by again, Joker. Don't get cute." At another mock bow, Gordon pulled Valentine slightly to the side. "Think you can handle this?"

She glared. "Don't have a choice, remember? You used your _"serious," _she made little air quotes with her fingers, expression becoming increasingly sarcastic, _"_tone on me," she waved off his concern, settling down at the less elegant desk that had already been prepared for her, "Go on. I'll be perfectly fine." The commissioner nodded, wished her luck and departed.

She sighed. At least it was nice and dark down here.

The Joker was not precisely happy.

He was in jail. Again.

How dreadfully _serious. _

The man let out an over exaggerated sigh, hoping to catch the attention of his warden. She was however, far away in thought, probably hating the situation as much as him. It had not, after all, escaped his attention that the good Commissioner had practically been forced to drag her down there.

_Valentine._ That's what Gordon had called her.

She didn't look overly imposing. She wore the tradition officer garb, unadorned with any form of jewelry. Her hair was a rather nondescript brown and obviously was not pleased with being bound back in a sloppy tail, a few of the shoulder length strands having already escaped. These hung with stubborn determination in front of her pale face, not phased by the fact that she was constantly pushing and shoving them to the side.

In short, he supposed she was a rather pretty creature. At least he'd have something to look at in this damned cell!

And now, it was time to get social.

Once he was positive she was looking his direction ( she been sending him inquisitive little looks every since she arrived, he noted wickedly), he brushed back a few of his oily hairs, leering again, " Hello kitten, want to play?"

Valentine seemed to go a bit more rigged, her eyes narrowing, shoulders squared. " One of your games? No thank you. And before you ask, no, I don't want to see how you make a pencil disappear. Or hear how you got your scars. "

"Spoilsport."

She crossed her arms defiantly over her chest, "I don't do mornings, Clown Boy."

"Fine, want to play a different game? For information?"

She was intrigued, he could tell. " If you want to go and get all chummy I'm not going to try and stop you. Any rules I should know about?"

He let out a maniacal little giggle, scooting his chair closer to his cell door, before motioning for her to do the same. The officer rolled her eyes but, after heaving a dramatic groan, drug her chair closer. Not close enough for him to reach her through the bars however, he noticed, feeling a tinge of satisfaction course through him. Whatever act she may have put on, this girl was afraid of him. "We'll start off easy. Less personal questions, and then work our way up to important stuff. If you lie and I catch you, you automatically have to answer truthfully and then answer one of my more personal questions."

"I don't suppose you're going to let me ask anything?"

He face twitched up into an inhumanly wide smile, made all the more terrifying by the scars emblazoned around his mouth and the clown makeup he used to amplify them. "Today is my day, kitten. You'll have your turn tomorrow."

Valentine allowed herself to smile in return, leaned easily back in her own chair, and motioned for the man to continue. Gordon had, after all, wanted her to get some information out of him. If answering a few questions about herself encouraged that, she would play along.

The Joker cackled again, rubbing his hands happily together, like a little boy about to open his Christmas gifts. Start off easy and impersonal. "What's your full name?"

"Lilith Valentine."

"How tall are you?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"An impersonal one, kitten. Plus, just in case I bust out of here, I'd need your height to calculate how far I could throw you. Business and all that, you understand."

Her face blanched ever so slightly. "That's….reassuring. I'm 5'5."

"Damn. I had you pegged at 5'3. Alas," a little more joy crept into his odd voice. "Time to get a bit more personal. You have a boyfriend, Valentine?"

"You better not be coming on to me, Clown Boy…"

He chuckled again, this time more cruelly, but didn't answer, motioning tiredly for her to hurry up and answer his question.

The officer sighed, surrendering. "No, I don't have a boy friend."

And so it went, for the better part of an hour, till the Joker ran out of questions to ask her. She was single. She was short (to him) and 26 years old with no family here in Gotham, yada, yada, yada. He never allowed the questions to get _to_ personal. It was, after all, their first day together. If he made the mistake of scaring her off he'd have no one to play with in the future.

And that simply could not be tolerated.

With a smile he ended their little game, "Enough, kitten, we're done. You've answered _all _my questions."

She huffed again. "You'd think after asking me _all _those damn questions you'd have learned my name by now. It's Valentine. V-A-L-T-I-N-E. Valentine," he obviously wasn't listening to her ranting however. She sighed, brushing one of those ever so rebellious strands of hair out of her eyes once more, her gaze settling defeated upon the clock. She still had hours to go till her shift ended. Casting her eyes back to the Joker's smiling visage, she found herself surrendering to him for the second time in the brief encounter. "I don't suppose you know any more games?"

From the way he cackled cheerily to himself, she could only assume he did.

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Sky: I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter and so I apologize to ya'll. I had a few problems getting into the Joker character and will have to play with him a bit more till I feel a tad more comfortable. That being said, I'm going to promise the next chapter will be better. After all, when does the Joker answer questions truthfully? Or do anything sane for that matter…?


	3. Chapter 3:Warning Labels

Sky: Once again, thanks to you lovely people who reviewed. Here's chapter three with a bit more insanity. And length.

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**Chapter 3: Warning Labels**

Beep! BEEP! BEEP!

"I hear you! Stop snapping you infernal thing!"

Valentine rolled out of bed much as she had the previous morning. This time however, her outlook on the day was far less grim. In fact, she was almost certain she was going to enjoy work today. Despite her previous reservations about being assigned to watch the Joker, it was turning out to be quite an amusing venture. And so, with renewed vigor, she set towards preparing herself for the day.

The alarm clock must have been proud.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

"Rise and shine, handsome!"

Valentine nearly pouted when he didn't favor her with a response. No doubt he had heard her, for his lips had quirked up in a spiteful little grin. She waited patiently for another moment before resorting to another method.

And a moment later, a pencil bounced off the Jokers face.

He sat up remarkably quickly, "You are very lucky, my pet, that we are separated by these bars."

She stuck her tongue out at him, "I told you to get up. If you don't listen to me, rest assured I'll do it again."

He was spinning the pencil skillfully around his elegant, tapered fingers, managing to make the intricate movement look deceptively simple. When he next spoke, his voice was cold, "Would you like to bet that I could make this disappear from here?"

"You could, but I guarantee it wouldn't get you anything but a longer sentence."

The look he gave her sent an actual shiver down her spine. It was so cold, so inhumanly vicious that she could think of no retort. This was only amplified as the man stood, straightening to his full, imposing, height, and crossed to his cell door, glaring down at the much smaller woman. "Kitten, do you really want to play Russian Roulette with a man that has nothing to lose?"

She squared her shoulders, lifting her head arrogantly to glare right back at him, "Games can't be fun without a few risks."

And just as quickly as his anger had materialized, it was gone, replaced by his trademark maniacal laugh. Still giggling to himself, he reached out through the bars to tousle her hair dismissively, much as an adult does to an amusing, but equally incompetent, child. "You're an amusing creature, Valentine. To lose such a fascinating toy to one of my impulses would be unforgivable. For now." He allowed the threat to hang ominously in the air between them. It was not lost on the younger woman. "Want something from your prisoner, kitten?"

"Just to play your game."

He pouted. Unfortunately, with all the clown makeup, it came off closer to disturbing then adorable. "But I'm _bored_ of that game."

"You said today would be my turn to ask the questions," she dropped into her chair. It had been left by the cell door from yesterday's batch of games. "And isn't the Joker a man of his word?"

"Always, kitten. Ask away, same rules as before."

And so their game went on again. She didn't really learn anything that wasn't common knowledge but it was good to have him making small talk rather then threatening her or the recruits that were dumb enough to wander by. Not that she was going to stop the later of course. Those brats _had _done a number on her work space after all.

The Joker was whining again, "Are we done _yet_? I've been a good little boy and answered your questions, I think I deserve a reward."

She didn't like the sound of that. "If you're going to ask for your phone call, it's out of the question."

"You officers never did have an appreciation for the dramatic."

"No, we just don't have an appreciation for things that _explode_ in our stations."

He shrugged innocently, "Where else would you have had it explode? Down the road? That wouldn't have gotten me out. Or caught Betsy's attention. Besides, I can't cause chaos when I'm locked in a cell now can I genius?"

"You're locked in a cell now, Clown Boy."

"Yeah, but as long as I'm terrorizing you, it's time well spent."

"Always nice to know your priorities." Despite the seriousness of her tone, she couldn't help but grin. For a maniac he had a remarkably clever mind. She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest in a mock serious pose, "Fine. What do you want?"

The Joker parodied her pose, right down to the ridiculous, pouty look, "Dunno. Find me something."

"That's not fair!"

"_I'm_ not fair, kitten," he waved her off, "Now go find me something. Preferably something that explodes…" at her disbelieving expression, he rolled his eyes. "Fine. Go find me something that _isn't_ potentially fatal. Ya spoil sport."

Valentine really didn't know why she was obliging the lunatic. But she was bored and didn't have anything else to do, so didn't bother giving it much thought. She returned to her desk to search out something he might find interesting. Of course, she wasn't going to give him something deadly, or large enough to catch another guards attention. Just something small he could flick around…

A few minutes later she returned with a rubber band.

Joker stared at it lamely, "A rubber band? You're rewarding me with a _rubber band_? Which one of us is the lunatic again?"

She shrugged, tossing it to him before going back to her desk to do some paper work. "I can't give you something big. Technically I'm not supposed to be doing _anything _with you. Now sit tight and shut up. I do have other things to do down here." With that disturbing little giggle of his, he settled down at his own desk, mock zipped his lips and begun flicking his new toy around with abandon.

The officer watched him curiously for a few minutes before throwing herself with an otherworldly abandon into the mound of paperwork. For nearly half an hour, she was allowed to work in blissful silence, the Joker entertaining himself in whatever way suited him, occasionally letting out a manic fit of laughs. For the most part however, he seemed to respect the fact that she had work to get done.

For the first half hour, that was.

Having finally settled into her writing groove, Valentine was moving through her assigned work with remarkable speed. Half way through her newest report however, something flew past her head. She craned her head to get a better look at it…

Only to be pegged between the eyes with the very same rubber band she had be gifted to the Joker earlier. She picked up the annoying thing and shot it back at him. Much to her chagrin, it missed its mark by a long-shot and landed harmlessly in the corner. This only caused the man to burst into new fits of jovial hyena laughter.

And just like that, she was irritated again. "What was that for, Clown Boy!?"

He offered her a innocent little smile, "I needed to get your attention."

"And you couldn't ask!?"

"I could've. But shooting you in the face seemed like _so_ much more fun. That way you have no doubts that I can peg you with that pencil whenever I choose."

"And that's all you wanted?" he fidgeted, tongue flicking out to touch the scars on either side of his lips.

"Nope. I need you to get something else for me."

"If you're asking me for another rubber band…."

He chuckled to himself, "No, silly kitten, though that was fun. I want you to go get us some lunch."

Valentine rolled her eyes; he'd shot her in the face to ask for lunch. How typical. "You want me to get you something from the cafeteria?"

The Jokers face contorted in a remarkable parody of terror, "I asked you to get us lunch, not poison, girl! Let's not get drastic here. The day I'm ready to check out of this life for good, you can get me some of that swill."

"For a villain you're remarkably touchy."

"Look kitten, just because I'm crazy doesn't mean I have a death wish. Be a doll and get us something _real_ to eat. Puh-lease?" He had his creepy puppy dog face on again.

She sighed, grabbing her purse, "Just doesn't kill any of the recruits while I'm gone."

"No promises, sweetheart."

Valentine allowed herself to grin. "Good enough for me."

**G/O/T/H/A/M **

"I bring food!"

Valentine deposited the bag of food cheerfully upon her desk before turning towards her prisoner. The arrogant lunatic had somehow managed to reclaim his rubber band and was flicking it cheerfully around once more, a content little grin playing across his painted features. With a disbelieving toss of her head, she grabbed the sandwich she'd bought for him, "Here. This better be worth getting shot in the face over."

His smile widened. "Ah, you know you loved it."

"Not half so much as you think, Clown Boy. Now come get your lunch before I change my mind about this."

"As my mistress commands." He caught the sandwich with the same ease he'd caught the rubber band with. With a grateful nod of his odd head, he took a bight of the thing. She hadn't been entirely certain what an arch villain might eat, so had merely ordered what she often got herself. A nice turkey sandwich. For his contented munching, she assumed it had been good enough.

And so, having done her good deed for the day, the officer settled back in at her desk to finish her work before it got to late. It wasn't long however, before that damned man had pegged her in the face with his rubber band again.

Jerking her head up, she sent the grinning moron her best death glare. The effects of which were obviously lacking, considering the way his smile widened. "What do you want now, Clowny?"

Joker grinned, holding what remained of his sandwich up in a mocking salute. "Just wanted to thank you, kitten."

Her expression softened somewhat. "You're welcome."

There was a brief pause before he spoke up again. "Can I have my rubber band back?"

"You gonna stop shooting me in the face?"

"No guarantees, sweetheart."

She grinned again, flicking it easily back to him. "Good enough for me."

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Sky: There was chapter three. I actually liked this one. Once again, thanks to all who review. It really does egg me on.


	4. Chapter 4: All our Scars

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Sky: Whoo! It's _longer_…and a bit more serious….ish. That's right everyone. Time for Valentine to get a bit more chummy and divulge some of her past. Yes, I'm sure you're all sitting on the edge of your seats _riveted_. And more Joker-y goodness! Sweet!

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**Chapter 4: All Our Scars**

The next month passed without event. Everyday he would entertain her with a new game, and everyday she would bring him something "less poisonous," for lunch. On rare occasions, Gordon would stop by to make sure she was faring well enough down there by herself. But for the most part, the two of them were alone. And it had been going well enough.

Recently however, he'd taken to pacing around his cell, lost deep in his own chaotic thoughts. It was on these occasions that their conversations faded to near nonexistence. Valentine would often watch him with a profound sense of wonder; his entire countenance seemed to change when he planned. His body refused to remain still, demanded him to traverse his cell, his normally childishly light gait becoming a more loose shuffle. On the rare occasion that she'd catch his eye during one of these moments, he'd simply offer her an uncomfortable little chuckle, then return to his activities.

Today was one of those days.

She set aside her work, content with how much she had been able to accomplish, and closed her eyes. Joker was pacing once more, killing any of her hopes at having one of their normal verbal sparing matches. To bad. She had grown to enjoy them.

The sounds of his light footsteps stopped before his cell door. "Hey, angel, wake up." The tone of his voice lacked its normally excited, maniacal timbre, taking on a more insisting, harsh pitch. This wasn't something she had a choice in; she _would _wake up.

Heaving a dramatic sigh, she sat up straight in her chair, crossed her arms and raised an inquisitive brow, demanding an explanation. "What is it?"

"Why are you still down here?"

"Because it's my job, _genius_. I've been _assigned_ to watch you."

He was watching her more carefully now, "You're lying. You've been down here a month now, you could've requested a transfer. Or, you could have told your much beloved Commissioner that you felt threatened down here. You know as well as I that he wouldn't have forced you to stay if you insisted. Now don't lie to me again, princess. It irritates me. Why are you still here?"

The officer gritted her teeth and squared her shoulders, a visible sign, the Joker knew, that she had gone on the defensive. His questions had touched a nerve. "Give a little get a little, honey. If I'm staying here for some alternative motive, it's mine."

"Maybe _you_ don't know why you're staying here."

"I know perfectly well why," she snapped.

The man rolled his eyes, gave her a condescending nod, and resumed his pacing, arms linked behind his back.

Unfortunately, the Joker had accomplished his goals, and, now left alone with her thoughts, she wished their conversation hadn't ceased. The nuisance had stirred uncomfortable memories within her.

She was going to tell him. They both knew that.

A hiss of annoyed breath slipped through her pursed lips, "Do you really want to know why I'm still here?"

"I asked didn't I?"

"It's just…I owe Gordon. And if watching you is what he wants me to do….I'm going to do it. That's all."

He'd settled down into his chair again, staring curiously over at her through partially lidded eyes. The lack of movement was obviously offsetting, meaning whatever had been troubling him previously still was. "You don't seem like the kind of person who follows orders so blindly."

"Like I said, I owe him."

He rolled his eyes, tongue flicking out to touch the scars on either side of his mouth. "Look, sunshine, you don't owe him. That's the thing about you people with consciences; you always think you owe someone. You don't. Chances are Gordon doesn't even remember whatever it is you feel so strongly about. So get over it. If you don't wanna stay down here, don't."

She let out a bitter laugh, "You'll have to understand if I'm a bit leery of taking advice from a convicted murderer and terrorist."

Joker shrugged, "Just trying to rid you of some of your shackles, angels. Now, I'm tired of all these _serious _matters. Want to play a game?"

"Is life just a game to you?"

"Yes."

Another little chuckle. "At least you're truthful. What do you have in mind?"

"Well since you're _obviously _not interested in my magic tricks, and your dirty little friends stole _my _little friends…"

"If by "friends" you mean your knifes then thank god!"

"Oh pet, you just don't know them _personally_ enough," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, winked and gave her a playful little leer that had her shifting uncomfortably in her seat. " If I ever get out of here, I'd be more then happy to introduce you…."

"How tempting. One catch, last I checked you've been nailed with a life sentence."

He was licking his scars again. She had decided that was the one tick that was going to drive her out of her mind. He got nervous (a rarity) and out came the tongue. He got happy, cue scar licking. Now she assumed it was encouraged because of his feeling playful. He was leering again. "If you bring me one of them, I could introduce you _here_…"

Valentine had to purse her lips to keep them from twitching up in a traitorous smile. "Maybe tomorrow, handsome."

"I'm holding you to that."

"I never promised _anything_…"

"Fine. Ruin my fun."

"Always and forever, babe. If you're so desperate to play something, I have a deck of cards hidden away in my desk. Will that work?"

From the pouting look on his face, she doubted it. Regardless, she fetched them, settled down, and commenced dealing. They could play war. That seemed like a game that would suit him well enough. He didn't seem overly pleased, but went along with it, glaring at her over the tops of his cards.

Three games later, he was starting to fidget again. She rolled her eyes, "You want to ask me something?"

"_Besides _why you don't want to play with me and my friends…?"

"Yes, _besides _that."

Joker cackled to himself a bit, brushing back his green tinted hair, and leaned forwards towards her conspiratorially, "Just curious as to why you feel the need to shackle yourself to Gordon."

"I haven't _shackled _myself to Gordon, idiot. He's my boss…and…uh, I occasionally do some favors for him." He raised a brow. "Fine, so I'm a bit more subservient to him then I normally would be…"

"I sense there's a story behind this…"

"It's _personal, _Clown Boy…"

"And I'm _bored_, pookie, so start talking…"

She choked a bit on his most recent pet name for her, but nodded her head in aggravated agreement. If she had learned one thing from her time with the Joker it was that he was loath to give up once he set his mind to something. And if he wanted to hear her story, there was little doubt that he would manage to finagle it out of her sooner then later. "Fine. But if you get bored halfway through this…"

"Good god, woman, I'm bored _NOW_…"

She stuck her tongue out at him; she got a screwy little giggle in return. Settling more comfortably into her chair she readied herself. "It was six years ago…"

"Six YEARS!? What the _hell_ could motivate you to feel guilty for six years, angel?"

"If you'd shut up for a minute I'd tell you, Bozo!" Making a mock bow with his head, he motioned for her to continue. "Alright, six years ago. I had just gotten out of college, had moved to Gotham and was feeling remarkably good about my life at the time. My boyfriend and I had just moved in together and everything was going swell…"

"Yes, I can see why you were prompted to pledge yourself to an aging officer…"

"Shut up. I was working at the bank at the time. Unfortunately, no one warned me that a bank is probably not a good place for a girl to work in Gotham." Understatement of the decade. Courtesy of its ridiculous crime rate, the bank was perhaps one of the most dangerous careers one could be stuck with. How ridiculous and idealistic she'd once been. " Well, everything's going fine till a bunch of masked men strut in to pay us a visit. They yell for everyone to get down, take some hostages…."

"Yes, yes, angel, I've _committed _said robberies before, get on with it."

Valentine obliged him, preferring not to focus to long on her old life. "One of the guys grabs me but, instead of leveling a gun at my head, he chooses to press this weird string across my front. I didn't know then but I know now it was a piece of garroting wire. More painful, more personal, then a gun I suppose." The Joker looked surprisingly angry at that. Perhaps it went against his own moral code, though she doubted it. She took a breath before continuing, "Before we knew what was happening, in burst Gordon and his guys. A gun goes off in the background and, before you know it, all hell is breaking loose."

"I take it Gordon shot your pesky friend?"

"Yeah," she massaged her chest, feeling the wire again. "He shot him. Unfortunately, the impact from the gun sent the guy flying back, tugging the wire. Luckily for me, garroting wire isn't supposed to be used for severing torso's. Still got a nasty scar from it though…"

Somewhere through the story, the Joker had stopped fidgeting and had sat up bolt straight. Whatever question he'd had had she'd evidently answered. He licked his scars again. "So, you feel you owe our good _Co-missioner _because he saved you from that thug…?"

She nodded. "Yup. Quit my job at the bank, became an officer and everything…" He was cackling again , she noticed. "What? Did I say something amusing?"

The maniac shook his head, "No, angel. I just realized that you're not half so pure and holy as Gordon would like you to be. You're not serving justice for justices sake. You just _owe_ it to him."

"I'm afraid you're wrong…" Her voice came out far less sturdy then she would have liked it to.

A raised brow. "Are you so certain? What if _I _had walked into that bank, shot that thug, and saved your life. Would you still have become an officer? Or would you have dropped everything to follow _me_?" He giggled again when she couldn't answer. Would she have dropped it all to follow him? As she had with Gordon? Even thinking about the possibility made her head hurt. He was eyeing her curiously again. "You said the garroting wire gave you a scar, I would like to see it."

"You just don't get the definition of personal…"

"Course not, princess. I'm a villain, I get what I want. And it's been working pretty well for me so far. Now let me see it."

"Tit for tat, Crusty. You strip off that make up of yours and I'll show you my scar."

He pondered this for a while, then flicked the entirety of his attention back on her. "Deal, doll face. Go get me some water."

The officer rolled her eyes. She grabbed the water bottle from her desk and poured a decent amount of it on one of the napkins left over from their lunch. He accepted the proffered item and begun scrubbing away at the cracking substance that coated his face like a second skin. Once it was clean, he tossed the ruined napkin back, and made a "_well here you go_" motion with his hands.

It was, in reality, shocking to see his actual face after staring so long at the cracked makeup. It was _actually_ handsome. Her lip quirked a little bit, and she felt a little bit of laughter welling up inside her. Aw, if only Gotham could see that the true identity of it's worst terrorist was nothing more then a barely 30, school girls dream boy. The irony ran deep indeed. Amusingly however, she found she liked him better with the makeup. This, this rather attractive face, just didn't suit her verbal sparing mate. She made a mental note to fetch more of the wretched clown makeup for him.

"What?" He snapped. "You surprised or something?"

She smirked, "Not at all, hottness. You're just a bit more _pretty _then I would have given you credit for."

He snorted, " Trust me, beautiful, you wouldn't find me half so pretty if these bars weren't here. Now strip, I wanna see your scar!"

"You're awful impatient…"

"Valentine, I will remind you that I still have that pencil you threw at me earlier on this month…"

She chuckled, but stood so he'd be able to see her scar a bit more clearly. She pulled the collar of her blouse to the side, allowing him to see just the scar winding up over her right shoulder. She received a glare for it. "What, you wanted to see the scar! There it is."

"I want to see the whole scar, you nasty temptress. Now _strip_."

Well, he had taken off his beloved makeup in the spirit of fairness. Suffering a wash of guilt, she unbuttoned her blouse and pushed the sides away. "There, happy now, Crusty?" Amazingly, rather then seemingly pleased, he looked rather taken aback, reaching out to touch the furthest corner of the mark.

Despite being nearly six years old, it remained a garish purple, standing out starkly against the pale flesh. It curved unattractively from her right shoulder blade down below her left breast, cutting cleanly against her rib cage. It had been thin, but deep enough to bruise the blood vessels surrounding the original cut, leaving a few widened sections around her breast plate.

He gave her an inquisitive little look, "I didn't think it would be so…"

"Long? Purple?"

Another little chuckle. "It gives you character, angel," he brushed his fingers comfortably against her ribs again, "I doubt you'd be such a bitch without it."

The officer shook her head in disbelief, "That your version of a compliment, Scar-Face?"

"Hardly," he pulled his hand back and brushed it through his hair in a more familiar motion. "Now close your shirt already."

"What, you don't like em'?"

"Do you _want _me leering at you more?"

"Not precisely."

"Then close your damn shirt."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

Sky: WHOOT! Chapter 4! Time to thank you folks for your amazing support!…Uh…Thank you and stuff. Super extra special thanks go out this chapter to xlovexmex for giving me the pet names "Bozo" and "Crusty" and to the lovely HughloverX, who was kind enough to give me some very helpful pointers on how to write the Joker and suggested I give Valentine a bit more of a motive to continue hanging around with everyone's favorite loon. Hopefully they worked! Again, thanks ya'll!


	5. Chapter 5: 30 Pieces Of Silver

Sky: It's time for chapter five, my friends. This one was fun to write. (cackles to herself) Yup. And everyone, get ready to say "hi" to one of our newest characters; a few of you will be happy to see him again. The Joker definitely will be. But that'll be later! Enjoy, loves.

* * *

**Chapter 5: 30 Pieces of Silver**

Valentine lay awake in bed, clutching her sheets tightly about herself. She shifted uncomfortably beneath the covers once more, glaring at her clock. Another hour till she had to get up for work. She growled something angrily under her breath, and turned again.

Sleep had been dodging her; her troubled mind replaying her conversation with the Joker over and over in her head. All she could see was his pleased face when she closed her eyes. How amused he had looked when he'd figured it all out.

"_You're not serving justice for justices sake. You just owe it to him…if I had walked into that bank, shot that thug, and saved your life…would you still have become an officer? Or would you have dropped everything to follow __**me**__?"_ How very pleased he'd been.

And, the truth of the mater was, she hadn't been irritated with him for questioning her devotion. If he'd been wrong, she wouldn't be reacting so strongly to his jibes. The truth was he'd been _right. _And that was driving her mad. The truth was that, if it had been him who'd saved her, she'd have thrown herself at his feet as readily as she had Gordon's. And that disgusted her.

She tossed again, tried vainly to close her eyes, only to have them shoot open once more. Sleep was not going to come to her tonight. Pushing the sheets aside, she sat up, resting her head tiredly in her hands, still mentally exhausted. As tired as she was though, fighting for sleep seemed a useless battle. Might as well get up and ready a little early.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

By the time she made it into work, the officer had managed to get her thoughts in order. No, that was a lie. Her thoughts were as chaotic as ever. She'd just managed to repress them, shove them to the back of her consciousness till she could deal with them later.

She'd still had free time after getting ready so had stopped by a store to buy Joker some new makeup. No matter how odd he looked _with_ it, the face paint was something she'd come to associate with him. And she'd didn't like him _without_ it now. That pretty face just wasn't him.

Of course, the store clerk had looked at her funny when she'd brought the items to the counter. She'd simply shrugged, made up some lie and bagged her purchases. She had learned to lie earlier in her life with minimal guilt. She'd become _good_ at it. And someone she doubted that was a good thing.

She descended the stairs, unlocked the door , and stepped inside, taking in the now familiar room. Nothing about it had changed in the past month. Though, she noted, it did seem a bit less cold.

The Joker was already up and pacing, shuffling about with an energy completely foreign to her. "Morning, gorgeous," he was calling out a greeting to her, "How's tricks?" When she'd offered him a glare in return, he held his hands up in a playful symbol for peace. "Rough night, sweetness?"

She sighed, weaving her fingers through her dark hair, "The worst."

"You know, the best remedy for bad dreams is to not sleep alone. Luckily for you, I just happen to be free at night…"

She allowed herself a weary grin. "Thanks, handsome, but you're the reason sleep seems to be shunning me." She dumped the contents of the bag on her desk, sorted out the products she'd selected for him, then tossed them in his direction. "Put your makeup back on, Crusty. I like you better with it."

"Amazing how I go from "handsome" to "Crusty" so quickly," he chirped with a cheery little tone, opening the little mirror she'd gotten just for the occasion and embarked on his task.

Despite her anger at him for causing so much turmoil in her thoughts, she had to admit, there was something fascinating about the way he painted himself. For the few moments he was working, he seemed less arrogant, more careful and calculating. This was important to him. It was _his_ image and he had to get it _just _right.

And, minutes later, the Joker was sitting in front of her once more.

"There. I'm back to my beautiful self again." He let out a pleased cackle, licking his now lipstick covered scars. Obviously satisfied, he slid the makeup back to her, then commenced his pacing once more.

She continued to watch him, feeling her worries dragging themselves back to the fore. "Hey, handsome?" He arched a brow; ceasing his stroll to stare. "What's bugging you? You don't move around so much if you're sure of something."

He grinned, giggling. "I'm just planning my escape, sweetness."

"Well aren't we cocky."

"Always. You see, I'm getting tired of being caged. And I'm sure Batsy is getting _lonely _without me."

"So you think you can just escape whenever it pleases you?"

Joker was giving her a strangely fond smile that made her remarkably uncomfortable. "Nonsense pet. Not _wheneve_r I want. I just sense I'm going to get out of here _soon_. You don't think I've just been sitting in here all this, do you? You know better, doll face."

She arched a brow. " So you've been engineering your escape this entire time?"

"Yup. And its all been set in motion. Just waiting for my _favoritest_ new toy to make its move."

She would have liked to continue there conversation, or at least have called him on his new "plan." Unfortunately, any scathing retort she had planned was cut mercifully short by Gordon entering the room, a grave look on his older face. Joker watched the way she carefully adjusted herself, softening her entire demeanor, even her facial expressions becoming more delicate and trusting, her eyes brightening slightly as befit's a servant of the law. He giggled the littlest bit, causing the woman to flick her attention back to him. From her glare, he assumed she knew he'd been watching and was not pleased that he knew her little secret. He tipped an imaginary hat to her, causing her glare to deepen.

Gordon watched the exchange, puzzled. Either way, he quickly dismissed it. "Valentine, I need to see you upstairs. Now." If Joker hadn't known her secret, seeing the obedient nod the normally rebellious and strong woman gave the older officer would have come as a shock. As was, it seemed more amusing.

Valentine strolled past his cell, " Don't say a word, Clown Boy," she hissed.

He leaned just a bit closer, licked his lips again and whispered back, "Wouldn't dream of it, gorgeous." From the terrified look on her face, he knew she'd understood what he really meant. She wasn't going to get out of here without him embarrassing her.

Gordon touched her arm lightly, taking it gently in his own to lead her out of the room. She turned her head to glare back at their prisoner once more, mouthing something less then friendly in his direction. He just giggled manically in return and waved cheekily.

They were nearly out of the room till the man chose to act. And, from behind them, she heard the shriek that made her quail.

"You can't stop our love, _Co-missioner_!" Followed by hysterical hyena laughter. Valentine just ignored her bosses terrified look and hung her own head.

Well, he _had _warned her.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

"Sir? What's so urgent?"

Gordon gave her a somber look, "Someone's here to see you. He wants to be certain Joker is being effectively supervised."

Her tone grew more cold, "Are you suggesting I'm being to lenient with that clown?"

He shook his head. "Not me. Come on, he's waiting."

The two of the stepped into his office. Whoever wanted to see her was already waiting, seated and waiting patiently for them to return.

Gordon pushed her foreword just the slightly. "Mr. Wayne. Here she is. The officer who we've assigned to the prisoner."

Wayne rose respectfully for them, inclining his head in a friendly greeting, lips turned up in a smile, offering his hand to her. Still suspicious, she took it slowly.

And instantly regretted it.

The man, described by the papers as nothing more then a confused, arrogant, play boy, had a grip stronger and more vice like then anything she'd ever encountered. It _hurt. _He evidently noticed he'd been holding on a bit to tight for, at her awkward, slightly pained looking smile, he eased up considerably.

Bruce gave her an apologetic smile, "Sorry. Guess I'm a bit stronger then I thought," she nodded in vigorous agreement. "So, you're the one who's been watching that menace? I do hope he hasn't been causing you much trouble."

"No, no trouble at all, Mr. Wayne. In fact he's been remarkably civil to me."

"Civil?"

"Well…as civil as someone like him can be."

He was watching him far more carefully, with a calculated stare an oblivious play boy should be lacking. "So you've talked to him?"

"Of course. Not much else to do down there."

"How long have you been assigned to this case again?"

"Around a month, Mr. Wayne. Is there a problem? Something I don't know about?"

The playboy smile resurfaced almost to quickly. "Not at all, Ms. Valentine. As the cities golden boy I'm just expected to make these routine visits and all that. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, sir. Is there anything else you need from me? I really should be getting back…"

Gordon cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Actually Valentine, we've arranged to have you transferred off the case. Mr. Wayne and I agree; it's not safe to be stuck in such close confines with a man like that for extended periods of time."

"Sir, I don't believe that's…."

"Valentine." He was using his serious tone on her again. This time however, instead of feeling a pang of guilt at questioning his authority, she felt something akin to anger bubbling up in her guilt. Maybe Joker was right; she didn't owe this man.

Her expression became harsh, and she nodded. "Just let me finish my shift today." They two men nodded and, with that dismissed her.

Bruce watched her go, a slight feeling of dread coming over him.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

"Welcome back, gorgeous! Your masters give you a treat? Scratch you behind the ears?"

She glared, "They've taken me off your case. Apparently to much exposure to you is deadly to ones mental health." She was fumbling around in her desk for something. Finally, at the bottom of her first drawer she found it. With a pleased expression, she held the gun up for him to see. "I'm going to need thirty pieces of silver for this."

"What? You think offing me is going to help?" He was grinning; he'd understood what she really meant.

Valentine let out a little giggle that seemed a bit to similar to his own, "Of course not, pet. This is for when my shift ends."

"You finally tired of being Gordon's hound…?"

"Infinitely."

He licked his scars one more time, extending his hand through the bars.

With another little giggle, she clasped it.

* * *

Sky: WHOOT! Chapter 5 is done! And we're gonna have a jail break! And Batman! (cough) And now, for a disclaimer to allay some of your doubts. Now, as to the romance that may or may not appear in this story…I've brought in the characters to make some promises…

Joker: Damn. More promises. I hereby promise not to rape Valentine. Or to fall into a fit of angst or fall hopelessly in love with her. Because I'm the Joker and, as it's been so rightly pointed out, am not capable of truely loving someone. So all you fan girls out there stop squealing my name! That includes you Sky.

Sky: Damn.

Valentine: (sighs) And I herby promise not to get drunk and jump Joker. Or fall head over heels in love with him after he beats the crap out of me. Or become an angst ridden, love lorn sod who can't think straight because she's terrified for her terrorist boyfriend.

Sky: You heard it folks. And those are promises you can believe in. Lol. Till next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6: My Other Half

_Sky: Jailbreak time! And some Batman. Cause we love him. And he's hot. And yes, I just referred to myself as more then one person. Once more, thank you guys for being so awesome and supportive. It's really appreciated. Now, here's the next chapter. Enjoy, loves!_

* * *

_**Chapter 6: My Other Half**_

They still had another half hour till they set their plan in motion.

Valentine sat next to his cell door, leaning her head tiredly against it. Her stomach had twisted itself up in painful knots, the anxiety doing a real number on her nerves. This was, perhaps, the largest decision she'd ever made in her life. If she went through with this, she would never be welcomed back here. She'd constantly be running from the law, would have to give up all her currents friends…

But she could do whatever the hell she pleased with the rest of her life. And that pleased her more then any amount of justice would.

Yes, she would help the Joker. She ran one hand through her hair again, one of her nervous habits. Unfortunately, the appendage was near trembling. The Joker noticed this, skipped over and gave her hair a friendly little tousle. Through her now disheveled bangs, she favored him with a glare, getting another laugh in return.

"Nervous, gorgeous?"

"No," she snapped a little to quickly. The man rolled his eyes, obviously catching onto her little lie. "Okay, so I'm a little nervous. Unlike somebody, I'm not used to committing felonies!"

"Oh don't worry, pun' kin, you get used to it."

Pun' kin? She raised her eyebrows at that one. He shrugged innocently. Not all of his pet names for her could be good. Or perhaps he'd just exhausted all his good ones and was to busy to think up something original. "Look, can we go over this one more time? It'll make me feel so much better if I make sure I've got everything right in my head."

He licked his scars, "Honey, let me tell you right off the bat: things are _never_ gonna be right in your head."

"Ha, ha, very clever. _Please_?"

He sighed, obviously put out that she hadn't gotten it completely right already. "Fine. Tell me everything you remember and we'll work from there. Last chance; prove you know what you're talkin' about sweetness."

She nodded, "Okay. First, I give you the gun." He nodded. "Then you use it to open your cell and pretend to take me hostage. And that's where things to get fuzzy."

Joker gave her an incredulous look, "That's _all_ you remember?! That's only the stuff _you_ came up with!"

The soon to be ex-officer stuck her tongue out at him, "Yeah, well your convoluted logic screws with my head. I mean, you didn't even _plan _for failure…"

"Cause that's not possible, dummy."

She rolled her eyes, "But if it _wa_s…"

"It _isn't_."

Fine. It wasn't worth debating with the lunatic. She threw her arms up in exasperation. "You know what, never mind. I'll wing it. But just in case we do run into a hitch," she held up a hand to shut him up. The man pouted terribly, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest. "Why don't we plan to meet up at my apartment?"

"Will it make you feel better?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Fine, give me the address. If things start to get dicey, we'll hang at your place. Now put on your best hostage face gorgeous, cause it's show time!"

Somehow, listening to the mad man cackle so gleefully to himself made her feel a bit more confident.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Commissioner Gordon was getting ready to go home for the night. Work had been long and exhausting today and he wanted nothing more then to go home to his family. He touched the portrait of them sitting on the top of his desk, right next to his computer where it could be most easily seen, fondly. Despite the promotion he'd just received, they were still the most important part of his life. Sighing, he shut down his computer, rose, grabbed his brief case and strolled out of the office, ready to leave.

It was then he heard a gunshot come from the holding cells.

_Joker. _

There was no doubt in his mind that that lunatic had caused this. He watched as the officers scattered, obviously confused at having a shot fired within their own ranks. "Everyone calm down now!" Gordon barked, putting on his most authoritative tone.

The bastard had waited till they were the most understaffed. Even the officers they had on hand were the less experienced ones; they wouldn't be able to handle such a situation well at all. Gritting his teeth, Gordon prepared himself for the worst.

His family would have to wait a little longer.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

"Okay where do I go?"

"_Up_, you idiot! What other way can you go on _stairs_?" Valentine snapped, mentally rolling her eyes. In hind sight, insulting such a man as the Joker when he had a gun leveled at her head probably wasn't the smartest move she'd made in her life. But she had been irritated and he was being remarkably, in her opinion, incompetent.

"Listen _sweetness_, I'm pretty certain I can get out of here without a hostage, so unless you want to practice playing a corpse, I recommend you tone down the lip. Now shut up and act scared!" He nudged her neck with the gun to make his point. Still feeling less then certain about his _plan, _but equally uncertain of his sanity/devotion towards her, she slipped into her "helpless hostage" role.

Valentine tried to remember some of the old movies she'd watched when she was younger, thought about the female roles, and applied them to herself. She let out an utterly terrified yelp, flung her hair, and struggled against her captor, who'd had the foresight to wrap an arm securely around her waist. It had been awkward when he'd first suggested it during planning simply because he was so much taller then she. To make it look convincing he was practically forced to drag her around, something that neither of them relished.

They crested the stairs and, in accordance to Valentines strict orders, strode away from the front door and towards the back one. Gordon would likely still have a few officers posted there but never as many as he'd have near the front, making it easier for them to slip out.

The man brought them to a complete stop, a confused look on his newly painted face. Joker clasped a hand firmly over her mouth, muffling her latest scream. "Ssh, ssh, ssh," he purred, not so much to her as the area around them. "Something's not quite right…can you hear anything?" She gave a vigorous shake of her head. The hall, besides their own breathing, was preternaturally silent. If there were recruits blocking the door ahead, the halls should have been flooded with sounds. The two of them exchanged puzzled glances. He winked at her, "Guess we'll just have to be extra careful, eh?"

She couldn't respond due to his hand, so nodded instead. With a jovial flick of his head he continued ,dragging her forward, a more cautious layer coating his steps. When they finally did reach the door, he paused. If there _were _officers on the other side, chances were throwing the thing open would not be the brightest thing to do. "Hey, doll face, here's the plan. You open the door."

He dropped his hand so she could speak, "Are you _crazy_!?" He raised a brow. She rolled her eyes and conceded to him on that one; stupid question. "If I open that door, they'll _shoot _me!"

"And if I open the door, they'll shoot us _both_," she didn't look very convinced by his logic. "Fine," he groaned, "You open the door and I'll pull you out of the way before they riddle your pretty little figure with lead. Better?" She growled something entirely unladylike under her breath, but stepped towards the door. Making a silent little prayer, she waited for him to position himself near the opposite side of the entrance, braced her shoulder against the door, then heaved. True to his word, he seized her shoulders, jarringly yanking her back to safety before the door had swung completely ajar.

No bullets whizzed through, however. They were actually alone. Again, they exchanged confused glances.

"Something tells me your friend aren't playing fair with us, princess," regardless, his arm was back around her waist like a vice, holding her tight. "Let's wait for a second; see if we can root out our little friends."

They waited, silence hanging in the air like a shroud. In a moment however, one sound did reach their ears, so faint, yet so blatantly obvious against the previously still air. From not far outside the door, someone shifted their position in the gravel. The Joker let out a devious little cackle, pleased that, once more, he had been correct. "Look likes we've got at least one _friend_, kitten. Better go introduce ourselves."

"I'm not entirely certain I want to know how you introduce yourself, Crusty," she hissed back, getting ready to slip back into her damsel guise. "Tell me when."

He waited, readjusted his grip on both her and the gun, then nodded. On cue, she let out another ear piercing shriek. He licked his scars and grinned; she was doing well.

"You might as well come out _Co-missioner_...unless you want this pretty things brains all over your station walls..." There were more sounds of someone readjusting themselves. Another sick giggle and they were entirely through the door, out in the open. "You gonna come out and play now?"

"Joker!" It was Gordon. Valentine suffered a wash of guilt at putting her old friend through all this. His face looked genuinely pained as he watched them.

She let out another terror filled shriek, "Gordon help me!" It seemed as though her voice cracked, tears welling up in her bright eyes. From behind her, she could hear her companion chuckling; she was carrying out her role well.

"I recommend you step back _Co-missioner_, I'm getting awful bored of your game…"

"Maybe it just needs a new player."

At the raspy, deep voice, Joker began cackling anew; what a lovely new addition to his game! In stark contrast, Valentine could only role her eyes. Only Batman could pull of such a cheesy line with glamour and finesse.

"Oh _yey_! It's _Batsy_!" She had the inkling feeling that, were he not currently holding a gun to her head, he would have been clapping his hands together in sheer delight.

Batman took an imposing step forward, "Let her go, Joker."

He pouted, pretending to stroke her hair fondly, "But I _like_ my new toy. You'll have to take her from me."

Valentine let out an actual squeak, catching the Joker's attention. She had no intention of being caught in one of their brawls. Unseen to the other two, the man rolled his eyes in acceptance. "Go ahead, if you can get away," he hissed, "My fun with Batsy can wait."

Thinking quickly, Valentine kicked back hard, her foot connecting hard with the tall mans shin. Surprised, he let out a little yelp, snatching a handful of her hair before giving it a hard yank to pull her right back to him. From the expression on his face, she was positive he had a few choice words for her…

Whatever they were however, she would never here them. Batman was on the move, running right towards them. Joker sighed again, glared at her, then chucked her at the charging hero before taking off running down the alley.

Valentine collided with the man, the force of the Joker's throw forcing his enemy to break speed lest they both be sent tumbling to the ground. He cursed silently, watching the man's fading figure. The lunatic had gotten away. His attention flicked back to the woman in his arms. "You alright?" He rasped. Still wearing her damsel face, she only allowed herself a tiny, appreciative nod, nearly collapsing against him.

"Valentine!" Gordon seized her up in a friendly hug. "Thank god he didn't hurt you."

She sighed within herself. This was gonna be a long experience.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

When Valentine finally got back to her apartment, she was on the verge of collapsing. After suffering through all the other officers sympathies, she'd been forced to stop by a store for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

Muttering darkly to herself, she pushed the door to her apartment open.

"Well it's about time your got here, gorgeous!" She turned her head weakly to glare the man down. He was emerging from the bathroom, still wet from the shower he'd been taking before she arrived. Still frowning, she chucked the new pair of clothes she bought at him.

"Here, put these on. All I need is for someone to stop by and see a towel clad Joker in my apartment."

"Aw, you're no fun."

"Not for people who yank on my hair!"

He grinned, leaned forward and spitefully gave one of her bangs another yank. "You asked for it! You kicked me in my shin, you nasty minx!"

She plopped down on her bed, exhausted, "I'm beginning to regret letting you of that cell."

He giggled, disappearing into the bathroom. When he reemerged he was wearing the more common jeans and t-shirt instead of his own unique suit. "How do I look?"

She eyed him, one brow raised, "You're awful vain for a guy, you know that?"

"You do realize I can reach you with my knifes now, right?"

"On that note…"

He plopped down next to her, still grinning. "Wake up, honey. We gotta go soon. New lairs to find, thugs to employee, banks to rob, all that good stuff. Get up, princess."

Instead of favoring him with a response, she hit him square in the face with a pillow. He cackled, then settled down, "Fine. We can go in the morning."

* * *

Sky: The dark deed is done. This chapter was…interesting to write. Next chapter, we'll be getting back to more floofy, silly verbal sparing stuff. And….our friends are gonna find themselves a new base of operations….or something like that. Who knows? Till next time ya'll.


	7. Chapter 7: Twin Soul

Sky: Well, here's my first chapter after the jailbreak one A.K.A the chapter in which I shot myself in the foot. It's my first attempt to right the wrongs and cover up some of the flaws it created in the characters, mostly Valentine. In other words, if you felt she was acting too rashly and made a life changing decision at the tip of a hat and couldn't care less, here's my attempt to explain it/add some humanness to Val. So uh….here goes. Prey it doesn't suck! Now, read on!

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**Chapter 7: Twin Soul**

That night Valentine did not dream, all thoughts and memories fading to the nether reaches of her exhausted mind. From the dark void of her subconscious however, deep beneath the more obvious wave of fatigue, guilt was beginning to bubble to the fore.

When she awoke the next morning, it hit her with all it brute efficiency. For the first time she realized that her decision _would _have repercussions that she would have to deal with; that was unavoidable. In a show of arrogant disobedience, she had struck out against the permanent fixtures in her life, Gordon, the profession she had devoted years to, all for a man who, on a whim and without a second thought, would kill her. She let out a tired whimper.

But he was so fascinating.

The officer nearly buried her head in her pillows, massaging the tender skin on her skull, the dull ache a somber reminder of her companions mercurial temperament, trying to tone out the inner war her mind was waging against itself in earnest. The two sides, one commanded by the fragile, guilt ridden psyche she'd fought to subdue, the other the arrogant, vanity driven façade she often called upon for strength, were each screaming for attention, determined to make their points. It was too early. She wasn't ready to face them yet; all she wanted to do was hide beneath her covers and go back to sleep.

Unfortunately, the one thing she wanted did not remain an option.

The look of terror, and distress on Gordon's face kept replaying in her mind. Though she had never been in any _real_ danger, it had hurt him to see her put in such a precarious position. He'd tried to _help_ her and, had it have been a real threat, would have been risking his life for her. And then what? His death would have been on her hands. Could she have lived with that? She had acted like a child striking out against a loving and protective father!

The arrogant, darker half of her let out an angry snarl at that, unwilling to forgo it's hard fought victory. She'd struck out against him because he'd been _using_ her. She'd struck out because she was tired of being his hound! How dare he question her devotion to a case when she'd followed his orders to a key since she'd entered his employ. For six years she'd been fighting to repay a debt that was fully out of her reach, a debt he didn't even have the courtesy to acknowledge, and now, when she was most in need of his understanding, when she'd needed him to trust her, he'd challenged her blind, childish devotion? The Joker had helped her see that. She was _free_ now.

Valentine clasped her hands over her eyes, letting out a heavy sigh, unable to decide which of them was correct. On the one hand, no one knew she had been an accomplice in the Joker's escape; if she so chose, she could do the morally correct thing. She could return to the force and continue on under Gordon.

Or, the darker half purred, she could continue on with the Joker, and indulge her fascination.

She growled to herself, forcing both issues out of her mind for the time being. Sitting up in bed, she glanced to the side, expecting to see Gotham's most feared criminal asleep beside her. Instead, she was greeted with crumpled sheets, the small disturbance the only thing marking a previous presence. A cursory scan of her apartment however found an answer to her inquiry. The man was curled up on her couch, wrapped tightly in one of her spare comforters, his curly hair forming a frame for his angular face, lending a false serenity to the chaotic void of a man.

He had, she saw, washed his makeup off during his shower last night, leaving his face unprotected, each emotion projected across its planes with striking clarity. So fascinating, so very fascinating. The man who could, despite his inherent cruelty, do naught but smile when he was one with the waking world was surprisingly dour in his sleep, the corners of his scarred lips turned down in a serious frown, brows knitted together in a mixture of confusion and irritation. The irony ran deep indeed.

So very intriguing.

She remained torn.

"Am I really that pretty, princess?"

She blinked, her expression resembling a child who, while not doing anything precisely wrong, had been caught all the same, mouth half open. The mans eyes remained closed, but from the way his lips curved up in a smile, there was little doubt he had caught her staring. The dark eyes opened, watching her with surprising clarity and a calm she lacked so soon after waking.

"Well?"

She stuck her tongue out at him, continuing her childish train of thought, "I was just wondering what could have possessed you to take the couch. Did a wave of chivalry wash over you in the middle of the night?"

He chuckled, shaking his head, "Don't kid yourself, gorgeous. You kick in your sleep. _Hard_. And you kept _breathing_ on me. If I hadn't of moved I might have been asphyxiated." She rolled her eyes, falling back onto her pillows with a chuckle, watching him out of the corner of her eyes as he rose, chucking the comforter over towards her. It fell short, landing in a heap on the floor.

The fact that he could get up and ready so quickly irritated her to no end. She had been up for nearly half an hour and still lacked the motivation to move. He had been up for less then five _minutes_ and was already foraging around her apartment for things they would find useful in the next few days. A few spare blankets, canned food, his suit and makeup, the gun she'd loaned him last night, all these he deposited in neat pile on her couch. Then, with more insistence he returned to the kitchen, rummaging through various drawers and cupboards till, with a cheerful shriek, he returned, clutching something protectively to his chest.

She raised a brow, "Kitchen knives?" He giggled, nodding proudly. "You want to smuggle my set of kitchen knifes?"

"Well since we weren't able to rescue mine last night…"

A patronizing sigh escaped her lips, "But they're _kitchen _knives."

He let out his own sigh, obviously meant to mock her. "Yes, princess, kitchen _knives_."

Valentine held her hands up in surrender, "I'm going to stop trying to understand your deranged logic now."

"Probably for the best." He fondled his new _friends_ with a tenderness she would have thought completely foreign to such a villainous man, a contented smile crossing his unpainted features. The effect was startling.

It would be useless trying to talk some sense into him. Her body still was not entirely ready to get up but she willed it to. Feeling slightly woozy for rising so quickly, she crossed to her closet, pulling out a backpack. She returned and handed it to him. Joker gave her a curious look, as though asking what possible use he could have for such a thing. She rolled her eyes anew, "Put the stuff in it so you won't have to carry it around. Especially those knives." He pouted, unwilling to part with his new toys. "Look, normal people don't carry weapons around with them. Put em' in the bag or leave them here."

"Sometimes I forget how much of a spoilsport you can be, gorgeous," he licked his scars and began loading his hoard into the bag. He set the his new toys on the very top, gently covering them beneath a blankets fold, keeping them both hidden and safe. He smiled proudly.

"What _possible_ use could you have for those?" She was eyeing him a bit more cautiously, not entirely certain she trusted that maniacal giggle of his.

He grinned, "How _else _do you expect me to find us a place to stay?"

"You're going to _kill _someone?"

"Yup. Most likely."

The officer….no….ex-officer, glared at the man as though he'd lost his mind. She ran a hand through her hair in exasperation, "You can't just go out and kill someone. I won't let you."

He looked almost amused by the notion that she had a say in anything he did. He removed one of her knives from the bag, holding it up to catch the morning light, still smiling. With a little giggle, he crossed to her, holding it close to her face, brushing a piece of her hair aside with it. "You're gonna stop me?"

She glared, squaring her shoulders. "You won't kill me. You _can't_. If I'm found dead, the police start up another investigation, which causes all kind of problems for you and all your _plans_."

Instead of looking phased, or even annoyed, he seemed pleased, cackling to himself, "Oh, clever, clever girl. Very good." He set the knife back in the bag, slinging the entire thing over his left shoulder. "Fine. You won't have to _let _me. I'm going alone."

"And what do you expect me to do while you're out wreaking havoc on the city without supervision?"

He grinned, already on his way to the door, "What you always do in the morning, pet. Go to work. I'm sure Gordon's wondering why you're so late as is. Don't worry sweetness, I'll be back to get you. I don't let my toys got that easily."

Before she could object the man was out the door and she was left alone with little to do but follow his orders.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Once more, the office had been thrown into a singular state of disarray. Recruits were scrambling around frantically, waving paper work around wildly, delivering it to whoever yelled for them first. The phones were ringing off the hooks, each with their own Joker sighting or a thousand other things. The effect was deafening.

Gordon sat aside from the chaos, head buried in his hands, an exhausted sigh escaping him. He'd been up ever since the prison break last night, stranded here at the office. Oh, his wife had been irate, but the fact of the matter was he couldn't risk returning home with that maniac on the loose. With a resigned look, he turned his attention back to the massive amount of paper work on his desk.

"Gordon?"

He looked up at the sound of another's voice, this one calm. There, standing in the door, was Valentine, two cups of coffee in hand, a tiny, comforting smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He forced himself to smile back, accepting the proffered beverage.

The younger woman had a concerned look plaguing her features, "Are you alright, sir?"

He nodded, "Just a little tired, that's all." He watched her fidget in her chair, obviously uncomfortable with the silence, "You alright to work today, Val?"

Another little smile, "As long as you need me to." There was sadness in her eyes, almost as though she regretted saying that, as if there was somewhere else she would much rather be or something that would please her more then coming in to work today. "I'm always here, sir." She cocked her head to the side, watching him carefully, "Sir, something's bothering you?"

He nodded. "Just my family. With…with the Joker loose again…." he let his sentence drag out.

"You're worried for them?" Another small nod. The woman squared her shoulders and reached out with one hand, clutching his arm in solemn motion, " They won't be harmed. I promise you, I won't let _any harm come to you or your family, no matter what." Again though, there was that sadness present in her eyes. _

Gordon allowed himself to grin at the notion of her standing against someone like the Joker. "I'll hold you to that, Val."

She smiled, took a decent portion of his paperwork, and turned to depart the office. "Valentine." She turned at the sound of her name. "Thank you."

The officer smiled, still looking so sad.

Despite her best efforts, Valentine remained torn.

* * *

Sky: IT'S DONE! Hopefully this worked to patch up some holes. Next chapter though uh….it's all Joker. And not the cuddly Joker I've been writing. Kinda. Ish. Anyway, if this chapter was good (crosses fingers) then it's dedicated to the lovely KissxTemptationx, who was kind enough to point out some things I could change to make this story better. If it sucks then it's just my fault! WHOO! Till next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8:Does Not Play Well With Others

_Sky: (shifty glance) _It's Joker time, ladies and gentleman. Yup, this is almost entirely him, and especially his thoughts of Val. And it was so much_ fun _to write. (Maniacal chuckle) Oh, and for those of you afraid there won't be anymore "friendly" banter between Val and Joker, don't worry. It's still gonna be there and will almost certainly remain there until the end of the story. It's just to much fun to get rid of. Now, on to the Un-Cuddly Joker chapter!

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**Chapter 8: Does Not Play Well With Others**

He was so very pleased with himself.

Yes, as the Joker shuffled down one of Gotham's back streets, a bit more spring in his childishly light gait then usual, he could not help but beam with joy, scarred lips turned up in a jovial smile, mentally patting himself on the back. He had done it again, against all odds. Escaped from jail, come face to face with his Batsy again, foiled Gordon and his useless hounds once more, _and_ seduced the irritating Commissioner's beloved protégé to boot.

The man cackled to himself, skipping along a bit more before he prepared to give in and called a taxi. _That _was something he was particularly proud of. Not only was the girl close to the good Commissioner, a reason he had decided to keep her alive in the first place, she was also infinitely entertaining. It was rare thing to come across one who could match wits with him, and rarer still, to find such a quality in a woman. Not that he minded. It was actually amusing. And he did so _love _to be amused.

Yes, his new toy was a walking mass of contradictions, a chaotic void of emotions artfully crafted into human form for his pleasure. So strong, so arrogant and witty, stubborn and yet, at the same time, so very terrified of others. Terrified, that they might see her for she really was. The way he had.

He giggled again; _so _fragile, so _very_ fragile. Beneath that ragged, confident façade she wore as easily as a second skin, he saw what she really was. The same innocent, trusting creature she had been so many years ago before the incident at the bank, before she had given birth to her twin souled, darker sister. That he managed to see through this, see what she was truly thinking beneath that other skin, had served both to terrify and intrigue her. It had also served to bind her to his cause more effectively then any threat.

She was afraid. For all her vaunted airs, shows of confidence and stiff upper lip, the woman remained afraid. Afraid to raise her guard, lest someone hurt her as the thug had. Six years later, he thought with a perverse sense of pleasure, and she remained wrapped in garroting wire, this time strangling herself. That was her true weakness. Valentine refused to trust, especially, he mused, still pleased, those she loved and respected most. The ones she dared let under her guard in the first place. Ones such as Commissioner Gordon.

And once the Joker had known this, manipulating her had been the easiest thing in the world.

The man waved over a cab, pleased that, without his make up, no one seemed to recognize him. A change of clothes meant a lot in Gotham. He climbed into the vehicle, good mood seemingly contagious, "The Narrows please."

The driver regarded him as though he'd lost his mind, "Sir, you don't want to be going there. Cops didn't patrol it enough before, now its just a home for lunatics and thieves."

Joker grinned, "Exactly." From the look on the cabby's face, he wasn't reassured, but, at the prospect of being paid, did as ordered. The Clown Prince of Crime, watched the buildings pass by in a colorless blur for a few moments before tiring of it and returning to his own thoughts. They were always less dreadfully _serious. _

Manipulation had always been something he was good with. Despite his inherent cruelty, he would never bother trying to convince himself otherwise, he knew quite well he was a tyrant, he possessed a charisma that constantly drew others to him, fascinated them. It had been no different with his new little toy.

Once he'd learned her little flaw, watched how she adjusted herself around Gordon to suit him better and, to a lesser and more reluctant amount, himself, it had only been a matter of time.

He'd fed her exactly what she wanted to hear, what she'd been fervently looking for for years. An excuse, a justification, to close herself off from the one person she'd allowed herself to trust. That she'd been used, was a puppet, that she'd given six years of her life to a heartless wretch, that this had never been something she wanted, yada, yada, yada, etc.

Had she not been looking so hard for just such an excuse to betray those she trusted and herself, she might have seen the blatant lies behind his statement. He'd hadn't bothered trying to conceal them, still judging her character.

And that was the most delicious part of it all. She'd _allowed_ him to do it, gently averting her eyes as it suited her and her ends. She'd _allowed_ him to blind her.

And that, that had pleased him.

He sighed; he missed his new toy. If only he could have brought her along to play…

But alas, Gordon had done a most effective job of poisoning the mind of his little doll. No, he hadn't missed the traces of guilt floating around in the depths of her bright eyes this morning, nor the reservations she'd expressed about needlessly taking the life of another. _That _had been part of what had inspired him to leave her. She was still attached to her former master.

So he'd told her to go back to work till he called for her, in effect pulling the hood over her eyes again. And she hadn't fought him.

Despite his intentions of returning for her, for he would never willing part with such an entertaining creature, he had neglected to tell her his location, or even his destination. He supposed, on a whole, he trusted her well enough; she _had _gotten him out of prison after all, but where Gordon was concerned, the poor thing was of a remarkably mercurial temperament. If that _idiot _Commissioner got it into his head to interrogate his lovely little pet, which he had no doubt the man would, damn him, she would sing like a morning lark. And he had _no _intention of going back to jail.

Another sigh. His dolly would need some reeducation before they could play again. He was _bored_ of her guilt ridden devotion to Gordon. He wanted to play with that darker half, the pretty, sparkly eyed creature that had the guts to challenge him. _She _was his favorite.

Beside Batsy of course. He still _loved _his Batsy.

The cab pulled over at the bridge leading to the Narrows, obviously not wanting to go any further into the abandoned section of Gotham then absolutely necessary. Still feeling jovial, the Joker paid him with some of the money he'd retrieved from his pet's purse. He doubted she'd mind and, if she did, he could easily repay her later. A few banks made that an easy enough errand.

He waited till the vehicle was safely out of eye sight before continuing his little venture. Time to find himself a little lair, and a few thugs along with it. He didn't bother to reapply his makeup, or even change. He relished in the element of surprise. It had served him well in the past and would again now.

He headed down to the less run down, but obviously empty buildings along the fringes of the bridge. This entire area was, as the cabby had mentioned, most desolate save for the occasional lunatic. Or gang.

And at the moment, he was looking for the gangs.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he headed towards one of the larger apartment complexes. From the looks of it, this one was as desolate as the others. But, to his trained eyes, the signs of wear, nearly invisible to another, were evident. The wood around the door seemed more worn, an obvious sign that it was used often. And, more importantly, something of a trail had been etched out of the ground, a slightly more smooth little path marking that people often passed this way. And he highly doubted the lunatics had congregated together inside. Yes, he decided this would work well for him.

Humming loudly enough that anyone in the area would hear him amidst the silence, but not so loud as to seem conspicuous or overly forward, Joker strode towards the doors, looking as innocent as he possibly could.

As he predicted, men, their skin all adorned with jagged tattoos, stepped out of the shadows to apprehend him. He grinned inwardly, ah, _so_ simple.

One, larger then all the others and slightly taller then himself, stepped even closer, brandishing a cruel looking pipe, "You picked the wrong place to frequent, pretty boy."

Another stepped up, this one female, a lewd twinkle in her dull eyes. Not shiny at all like his pretty toys, he noticed with a pout. "Aw, he's kinda cute. Can I keep this one?"

The first man growled, "You kept one last week, Tira. This one goes to the boss." The woman, Tira, sulked, crossing her dirt smudged arms irately over her ample cleavage, obviously trying to sway her superiors judgment. Since his arm was still seized and he was drug brusquely inside, he could only assume it fell far short of the mark.

The place was what he'd expected it to be inside. Dirty, empty, cold. All these things applied to the current room the thugs had managed to haul him to. It wasn't the best area he'd even seen, but there appeared to be a decent amount of room and, more importantly, a decent amount of members in the gang.

He nearly preened at the idea of so many new recruits. All he needed was to come to an _agreement_ with their leader. Thugs were good like that, so willing to pledge their allegiance to the however demanded their respect. Usually, he smirked, this meant nothing more then offing their current leader. So simple.

His fingers, the free ones that weren't being commandeered/frantically clutched by Tira, brushed soothingly against the knife he'd hidden beneath the top of his jeans, partly hidden by the hem of his shirt. The cool metal was a refreshing change against his warmer skin, and served as a gentle reminder of his own strength. This was already finished.

They had come to a stop, and the largest thug departed to fetch their leader. The woman, he focused for a moment, stretching to remember this insolent creatures name….Tifa, Tessa, Tracy, Tira….yes, Tira! _Tira _remained, still clutching his arm protectively to her chest. Ironically, she supposed _he_ was _her _toy. The very notion of such a thing seemed ridiculous.

Still he suffered it, waiting patiently, and with more calm then a prisoner should have, for the man to arrive. He didn't have to wait long.

He was a surprisingly short thing, their leader, a good four inches less then his own considerable height, and was stockily built. And balding, he noted with some disdain. The creature settled down, motioning for Ms. Tira to join him; the woman pouted again, but released her death grasp to return to her masters side. So was full was he, with relief, that he almost missed the thing talking to him, "You took a wrong turn, pretty boy. I've got plenty of friends here who would like nothing more then to scar that pale face of yours."

Joker smiled, showing his slightly yellowed teeth, head cocked slightly to the side, "Oh, see, that's a problem. See, my face is already all scarred up. No more room for your lackeys inelegant marks and all that."

The thug laughed, causing a chain reactions of chuckles to traverse through the room, "This one has some fight in him." Obviously bored of talking, the mass of flesh lumbered forward, aiming what he supposed would have been a deadly punch towards his "prisoners" jaw, in attempt to teach him some "respect."

It was easily sidestepped. Before the man could register the motion, his arm was pinned against the wall, a dagger jumping artfully to his opponents hand only to come to rest at the corner of his mouth. His lackeys heaved a collective gasp, jumping up to arms. None, however, were moved enough to act, looking on in wonder at this scrap. Joker grinned again, this time licking his scars. "More then you know. Now, if you're done with your _pathetic _attempts at imposing me, I have a business proposition for you. Nod if you understand." The man did as told, terror creeping into his eyes. "Good boy, good boy, keep it up and you might get out of this alive." More horror filled the poor mans orbs. "Now, I'm looking for a few more, well, employees, you might say," he pitched his voice to the entire room, "Do you suppose I might find some here?"

The room nodded, causing him to smile once more. "Ah, good, you boys have obviously learned the drill," he patted their soon to be ex-leader condescendingly on the cheek, "Speaks leagues of your leader." He watched the man a bit closer, "But, if I'm to take over this little group, we can't have _two_ leaders now can we?"

A loud "no", chorused through the room. How delightful! Joker's smile widened, terrifying even without the clown makeup, attention now fully focused on his hostage, "I suppose you and me could _share_ the power…right?" A ragged, terrified nod. Still grinning, he dropped the knife from the corner of the mans cheek down the his neck. Relieved, the man let out a sigh of absolute relief.

At that, Joker slid Valentine's knife cleanly across the former leaders throat, the crimson liquid coating the smooth blade. Smiling to himself, he bent and wiped the sticky substance on the still dieing mans shirt, watching as he gurgled and choked on his own life blood. "Wrong. We _never_ share power."

Feeling more like himself then even, Joker gave him new troupe a playful bow, enjoying their horror stricken faces. With an elegant motion of his hand, he called the woman, Tira, wasn't it? He still wasn't entirely certain, over to him, allowing her to drape herself proudly across his arm. "And now, my good little children," he purred, "We introduce Gotham to the true definition of chaos."

All he needed now was his lovely little dolly.

* * *

Sky: IT'S DONE! And you know what, I loved it! This is the first chapter I've actually been completely pleased with. Is that sick? Slightly twisted? Who knows. Hopefully Joker remained in character through out this little indulgence of mine. Don't worry though, in the upcoming chapters, we will have some verbal sparing. I'm starting to miss writing it. Hopefully you enjoyed this! Until next time, loves!


	9. Chapter 9: Valentine's Day

Sky: Time to reunite our little friends! Thanks again to all you lovely folks who reviewed, as always it forces me to work harder on this little fic and helps me get the chapters out a little faster. Although, I was rather amused by how many of you guys said you hated Tira. Either you all really like Val or are just _really _overprotective of the Joker! Lol! (rugby tackle hugs Joker) Something I totally understand! Whoot! Now, onwards towards reunification!

* * *

**Chapter 9: Valentine's Day**

The Joker was nearly giddy. He was gonna get his pretty little doll back. Even the prospect of such a thing made him bristle; after three weeks around no one other then his incompetent thugs, and they truly _were _incompetent, he was ready for an intelligent conversation. He sighed, all he had to do was wait for her to get back.

He pouted, settling down on her couch.

He _hated_ waiting.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

It was her least favorite day of the year.

Yes, _Officer_ Valentine was nearly crouching beneath her desk, eyes darting shiftily from side to side, narrowed as they searched for any well wisher or pun slinging idiot. She sighed, _that_ was the down side of having a last name that doubled as a romantic holiday. The puns, and the ridiculously lewd jokes, were endless. Especially when she was single. She sighed dramatically.

It wasn't as bad now, but for the first few years, when she hadn't really fit in, and was _still _single, it had been infinitely irritating. Now, even the youngest recruits knew better then to tease the tetchy woman or send her endearing little notes. Or candies. Or dinner invitations. Or hotel addresses. Even those _gifts _could be dangerous.

And what was worse, Valentine's day (she shuddered at even the mention of the thrice cursed holiday) also doubled as "bring your child to work day," meaning the little rodents were crawling around everywhere, making a royal mess of both her desk and the immediate area around it.

Damn kids.

On cue, a cute little head popped in front of her eyes, reaching out a hand and tapping her friendlily on the shoulder, "Whatcha doing, Val?"

She smiled, giving the little boys hair a friendly tousle, some of her distaste set aside for _this _child, this one she could tolerate, seeing as she'd known him for most of his young life, "Just being paranoid." The woman raised a brow, suspicion creeping into her tone as she glanced around for the boys parent. He was nowhere to be seen. "Where's your dad?"

He shrugged, sidling up beside her, big eyes glazing hopefully into her with a feigned innocence she'd seen, and given into, a thousand times before. Damn kids. "Went out on another Joker sighting I s'pose. Mind if I stay and be paranoid with you?"

Valentine sighed, "Do I have a choice?"

"Not really."

"Alright then," She smiled and wrapped an arm around the boy, hooking another chair with her foot and pulling it over for him to sit in. She received an appreciative little smile as he settled down, his cheery, naively bright smile becoming more narrowed and suspicious, a mocking portrayal of her own expression. She chuckled, leaning her forehead against the side of his skull.

James Gordon Jr. swatted her away not appreciating her affections. He was a big boy after all and he didn't want some _girl_ hanging all over him. "Stop it, Val."

"Someday, when you're a _lot _older, you're gonna regret that." But she pulled back anyway, grabbing a hunk of paper work that still needed to be filled out. She hated to admit it, but she was only chatting with the boy to keep her mind off her current problems.

James smirked, crossing his arms confidently over his chest. "Nope. Cause by that time you'll be a nasty ol' lady. And I don't want some nasty _old _lady hanging on me!"

She shook her head, not able to repress her smile. The boy was sharp, and, unlike his more even tempered, and infinitely polite father, didn't think twice about snapping back at her. A welcome change; ever since the prison break, everyone had seemed to side step around her, so careful about her feelings that they had reverted to the robotic motions of polite conversation.

No one had ever _really _called her on her quips until the Joker. As deranged as it was, she found she missed her conversations with the criminal. After three weeks, her guilt had subsided. And now that the initial feelings of betrayal had worn off, she was just bored, wishing ever so fervently that she had listened to her darker persona and indulged her fascination and followed him. But it was to late now; three weeks had passed without any sign of the man. He had gone on with his personal vendetta against the Batman alone it seemed.

And left her to rot.

She growled to herself on that note, surprising the boy at her side. She'd broke him out of jail and he'd _left _her. How very _droll. _

"You thinking of something, Val?" The boy had his head cocked inquisitively to the side, brow raised in a way that almost directly mirrored his fathers quizzical expressions.

She smirked, grabbing his cheek, pulling him over to plant a kiss on his cheek. The boy squirmed and made a face, swatting at her half heartedly, but didn't really try to pull away, "Just wanted to do that, honey." He scrunched up his nose, still trying to retain his "dignity." She grinned and returned her attention to her paper work, giving her head a little shake.

"Val?" She glanced up at James, still smiling.

"What is it, hun?"

"Do you think my Dad's gonna catch the Joker?"

Valentine shrugged, setting her pen aside, leaning forward conspiratorially, "You know what, I think he will. Your dad's smarter then any nasty thug and has handled _much _worse then that clown." Of course, part of that could just be wishful thinking. She almost _wanted_ him to get caught so she could gloat in front of him. The very idea of it made her grin.

"And he's got Batman." She nodded, chuckling. The boy got a twinkle in his big eyes at even the slightest mention of his favorite hero.

"Yup. And between you and me, the Joker's really not all that scary. In fact, I'm pretty sure _you_ could take him."

"Really?" She nodded, watching as the wheels in the boys head turned. He puffed his chest out proudly, preening under her compliment. "Then I'll just have to keep you safe until dad gets him behind bars again. I mean, you might be old and all, but I'm not gonna let that guy get you again."

"Well thanks for the back-handed compliment there, sport. I'll feel much easier knowing I've got someone like you watching my back. Now shoosh, I have work I need to do." He nodded, mock zipping his lips.

They worked in silence, or as much silence as one can afford in an office crawling with children. She glanced up to see the mailman approaching her, a package in hand. "Miss Valentine?" A few of the officers around the room chuckled. They were favored with dark glares. She nodded to the man. "I'm sorry to bother you," god, even the _mailman_ was cautious around her today, "But I've got a package for you." She accepted the hastily proffered thing, signed for it and set it on her desk, planning to open it later.

James, it seemed, had a very different idea. He regarded the package as though it contained an infinite store of wonders, mischief flickering in his eyes. He glanced from the woman, to the package, and back to her, with a little whimper. "Aren't you gonna open that?"

She smirked, not looking up, "I will when I get home." Even without glancing over, she could feel the boy fidget. Gifts were, after all, for opening. Another little whimper. She sighed, reached out, and slid the thing down her desk and into his reach. The boy preened again, snatching it gleefully up, muttering a quick "thank you." With a grand flourish, the envelope was stripped off, revealing nothing more then a cheesy little card. James glared at it as though it had bit his hand; he didn't want a stupid card. He wanted some candy.

He slid it back to her, still distressed. "Your secret admirer sucks, Val. Didn't even send you chocolates."

She rolled her eyes, accepting the card, "If you're so desperate, I'll go get you some chocolates when my shifts finished? Can you wait that long?" He pondered the offer, then nodded. Better to wait for chocolate then get none at all.

Valentine turned her attention to the card. It was a traditional one, red and pink hearts cluttering the front and back of it. She flipped it open. There, written inside in a loose scrawl, was an interesting message inside.

"_**Tonight, all your dreams come true." **_

She raised a brow, setting the card aside without paying much thought to it. At the moment, all she had to worry about was surviving her shift and getting home.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

The last thing in Valentines mind when she got to her apartments door was that card she'd received earlier. How tired she was, how bored she was, all these things were often at the fore in her mind. That card was not.

She unlocked the door, gently nudging it open with her shoulder. There was something off about the inside of her apartment though, a weird feeling that she wasn't quite by herself. She reached for her gun, pushing inside more slowly, "Hello?"

A tall, angular figure stepped out of the darkness, a painted smile on his scarred face. The Joker brushed a few strands of his oily hair back, his makeup covered face looking remarkably sinister when cast in shadow. "And hello to you, gorgeous. Miss me?"

"Joker?" She looked more confused then terrified.

"Of course. Do you know any _other_ dashingly handsome terrorists?"

"No, Crusty. In fact, I don't think I know_ any _dashingly handsome terrorists."

She received a glare, and the man made a curt motion with his hand. Something hit her hard in the back of the head, causing her to stagger forward. Her vision blurred a bit, the impact causing her eyes to cross. It wasn't hard enough to knock her out, but it was enough to give her a deadly head ache.

From the blur she was spinning in, she could hear Joker yelling at whoever had hit her, his voice irate. "You couldn't even knock her out!? She's a little girl, you gargantuan oaf!"

Valentine clutched her head, her expression one of obvious pain as she glared daggers at the Joker. He was pressing fingers tiredly to his temples, looking about as irritated as she felt. "What the _hell _was that for, you idiot?!"

The man shook his head, letting out a ragged sigh as a reply. "Well it was _supposed_ to knock you unconscious so I could take you back to our lair without any _problems_," he favored his lackey with a dark glare, who had the courtesy to look sheepish. "Evidently though, that was a bit to much to ask." He pinched the bridge of his nose dramatically, "You have no idea what I've had to go through the last three weeks, princess."

She continued massaging some feeling into the rapidly bruising spot on the back of her neck, "Yeah, well, once my head stops throbbing, I'll cry you some big sympathy tears."

"Oh get over it, he didn't even knock you out."

Valentine glared, "I'm gonna knock _you_ out, Scar Face."

He grinned nastily, stepping forward while licking his scars, eyes roving over her little figure suggestively, "How? You can't even reach my face."

The lackeys watched on, secretly hoping for a fight to ensue. The two stared each other down, nearly identical frowns etched across the planes of their faces.

She tried to stay angry, she really did, but her lips turned up in a smile any way, irritation melting away, a soft chuckle breaking through the tension. He leaned forward to clasp her arm in a friendly little salute. "Good to see you again too, handsome, what you been doing the last three weeks?"

He shrugged, "Nothing much. Found a hideout, robbed a few banks," he leveled an accusing finger at one of the thugs lurking over her shoulder. "Been training the help…"

She smirked, "And what a job you've done."

"It's a work in progress, gorgeous."

"So I've noticed."

He chuckled, licking his scars again, giving his head a brisk little shake. "Ah, I've missed this, pretty thing. Now c'mon, I'm taking you to your new home." He made a motion to the thug again, this time with more insistence. The idiot was going to succeed before they left. The man hit Valentine over the head once more. This time it worked, the woman falling to the side, smashing her head into the corner of her lamp stand.

Joker let out another aggravated breath, crouching down beside the woman, gingerly lifting her head. As he expected, there was a gash and a rapidly forming bruise on her forehead. He turned a baleful eye upon the thug, eye narrowed darkly, "Well, you may have given her a concussion, but at least she unconscious. _Idiot_. Treat my toys with such disregard again and you'll find yourself floating down the river, face down. Now, if you can handle it, take her down to the car."

The Joker watched with a certain sense of pleasure as the man gathered his little dolly delicately into his arms, taking great pains not to aggravate her head wound. He smiled to himself, skipping out of the apartment, pleased with how that had gone.

Everything was going according to plan.

* * *

Sky: Is done! Now, for all of you who expressed a certain amount of disdain for Tira (chuckles), don't worry, Val's gonna have some fun with her next chapter. And uh, I wasn't really sure if Gordon's son was named James or Anthony. No where told me! So I'm winging it. Hopefully this chapter wasn't to silly, I just needed to show a slightly less obnoxious side to Val. Next chappie, we'll have some Tira beating goodness. Till then, review!


	10. Chapter 10: Here It Goes Again

Sky: I RETURN! And from the shadowy, twisty corridors of my deranged mind, I bring forth the next installment in this…story…type….thingy…? Who knows! Oh and uh, if the banter seems a bit lighter and more…_playfu_l, it's cause I wrote it whilst listening to Okay Go's "Here It Goes Again." Yes, a truly imposing song that one….READ ON!

* * *

**Chapter 10: Here It Goes Again**

When Valentine awoke a few moments later in the gangs newest vehicle, she not only was plagued with an overwhelming sense of nausea, she also got a mouthful of purple trench coat. She coughed, swatting feebly at the material inhibiting her breathing. Another hand pulled the excess material away, a heavy, irritable sigh following on the motions heels. "If you're _done _trying to devour my coat now…"

She tried to lift her head enough to favor him with a suitably scathing glance, but found it only made her more nauseous. Failing that, she merely inclined her head irritably in his direction, trying to look imposing regardless of her prone position. From the way he chuckled, she assumed her attempt had fallen mercifully flat. It was simply an impossible task, terrifying a man such as the Joker. Especially when his arm was doubling as both her brace and head rest. Her eyes, still hazy from the pain, found his grinning visage, narrowing in displeasure. She made a face, pressing the palm of her hand to her throbbing forehead in an attempt to drown out the maddening sound, as she groggily addressed him, "_You_. I am not liking _you_ right now…."

He clasped his free hand dramatically over his hear, expression mock pained, despite the fact that there was barely contained mirth dancing around the corners of his eyes, "Now why would you say that, princess? It hurts my feelings and…stuff."

The officer crinkled her nose, managing to raise a suspicious brow, "You? Feelings? I'm hazy not stupid, you tyrant."

An innocent shrug nearly dislodged her from her precarious perch on his arm, "Had a feeling I was stretching it." He cocked his head to the side, observing the side of her head. It was crudely bandaged but still appeared to be seeping blood. He touched two fingers to the sticky bandage, they came back slightly bloodied. He glared at the substance as if it was some sort of noxious liquid that could, at any moment, leap into action and melt away the tips of his fingers. He held it in front of her eyes as an explanation for her pain, "You hit your head."

"Correction, handsome. _Hitting _my head requires me to be party to an accident. _You _knocked me out."

He smirked, "No, one of my _thugs_ knocked you out. And if it's any consolotion, I had him shot once we got you in the car." From her tired snort, he doubted it mattered much to her.

She rolled her eyes, "Why do I get the feeling you weren't acting in my defense…"

"Cause I wasn't."

Another little snort. "That could be the reason."

Joker giggled in response, the motion rumpling her already bedraggled hair. The sudden motion also succeeded in making her feel infinitely more queasy. She held her free hand up in desperate plea for him to stop. The man put on his pouty face, not pleased at having his fun brought to such an abrupt conclusion. Still, he did stop, obviously not relishing in the idea of getting vomit on his beloved suit. Especially not when they were headed back to the hideout. That was _all _he needed.

"Joker?" He glanced down in time to see the woman screw her eyes insistently together in an attempt to blot out the spiraling world hounding her on all sides.

"Hmm?"

She clutched his arm more insistently as the car lurched, going over a bump at to high a speed. He made a mental note to shoot their driver for that little mishap. The woman made a little whimper, burying her head in the fabric of his sleeve, attempting to ward off the waking world, "Would you mind if I passed out again? Just till we get back till wherever the hell your taking us."

The man chuckled and nodded, watching as her head lolled to the side, resting more heavily against his arm now. Despite the fact that she'd most likely suffered a minor concusion, he could help but beam proudly, watching for a few minutes as the building outsides passed in a kalidiscope torrent of grays and blacks.

It felt good to have his toy safely back and out of the Commissioners reach.

Now all he needed to be perfectly content was Batsy. And that thought sent him into new fits of laughter.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Valentine felt a hand connect quite stingingly with her cheek, snapping her out of her pain induced coma. It hadn't _really_ been hard, or even overly malicious, just insisting. "Hey, gorgeous, up and at em'! It's time to meet the troupe."

She moaned, trying to push him away, "No thank you. The last member of your little family ended up giving me a concusion. You'll have to understand if I'm a bit leery."

"Hey! I told you, that guy is sleepin' with the fishes. Now up, up, up before I give you an _actual _concusion."

He phased it as a statement, making it seem like she had something of a say in the situation. She didn't. The man hauled her quite forcefully to her feet. Still clutching her head, she managed to channel her remaining energy into a nasty glare. It didn't have much effect; he drug her inside what looked to be an abandoned apartment complex anyway. That irritated her.

From what she could see, which wasn't much, her vision remained impossibly blurry, there were a decent amount of members in the Joker's little gang, each cruel looking and mindless. And easily discarded, she noted grimly. The man kept precious few things around him that he wasn't ready to sacrifice at a moments notice. A foreboding omen of her own place in his organization.

He released her arm to skip pleasantly ahead a bit, an inhumanly wide smile amplified by his messy red lipstick and scarred features. With a grand flourish of his elegant hand, he turned back around to face her, "This is the family." He pointed to one thug then another. "This is Useless Thug 1, Cop Fodder 3...Guy I haven't bothered to give a nickname to, and last, but certainly not least," he held his other arm out in invitation. It was seized almost instantly by another woman, her grip on the appendage deathly tight. The new creature stared up at him, big eyes full of absolutely blind devotion. "Tira." The woman giggled coquettishly at the mention of her name.

Valentine wasn't certain if she wanted to laugh or gag at the hopeless girls antics. Tira still clutching his arms with insistance, he returned to her. The officer felt a purely trivial surge of covetously well up inside her as they came closer.

The girl was tall, well….compared to herself, with big brown eyes and hair of a matching color, a noxious pink skunk stripe doubling as her bang. She was also far more femininely endowed. The Joker grinned at her, obviously realizing her distaste for his groupie. "Tira, this is Valentine."

The two woman regarded each other dourly, their espressions thoughtful, as though calculating how much difficulty they would have killing the other. Not that he would have minded, seeing the two woman disembowel each other would be infinitely amusing. Finally, Tira extended her hand, Val cautiously excepting it. "As Jokesy said, I'm Tira." She raised her head haughtily, "You're a lot shorter then I would have imagined."

She got a surpisingly icy smirk in return, " I don't have to be tall to shoot someone in the face. Or break their leg, for that matter."

He nodded, still looking smug. Without much difficulty, he pried Tira from his arm, abruptly and without more then a curt nod, dismissing the girl before returning to the bristling officer. He raised a brow, leaning easily against a wall, "So, whatcha think?"

"I think I might be sick."

The smug look on his face was growing wider and wider. He knew he'd kept that annoying little wretch around for a reason! He licked his scars, wiping off some of the expanssive red lip stick, "My intuitive sense of the female creature tells me you are…._jealous_."

She raised a brow. "_You _have a sense of the female creature?" He shrugged. Still, she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, stiffening as she slid into defensive mode. He mentally braced himself for one of her tangents. When she replied, each of her words were carefully bit off, leaving a sense of finality hanging in the air. "I'm. Not. Jealous."

"You just always foam at the mouth?"

He was favored with a dark glare. Ah, it was ever so amusing when his dolly got angry, her eyes getting all sparkly and livid, the entirety of her energy translating into one glorious emotional tirade. It was so much _fun_!

"No," she had regained some of her traditional confidence, straightening haughtily at the idea of being jealous of such a woman. "What would I be jealous of? Her dirty face, her complete lack of self esteem…?"

He nearly purred, his eyebrows waggling suggestively, "Her huge rack?"

Valentines eyes narrowed dangerously, "And why, prey tell, would I be jealous of that?"

He shrugged, feigning innocence, "You're just a bit _smaller_…"

She took a step forward, still looking irritated at his inference, "I'm _slender_."

He followed suit, though, with a bit more giddiness, a smile gracing his features in direct opposition to her snarling visage, "You're undeveloped."

"I'm _petite_."

"You're _boyish_." From the way her eyes widened, he had the inkling feeling that, were he anyone other then himself, she would have punched him square in the face.

Of course, he thought with a remarkable sense of pride, she still wouldn't have been able to _reach _his face. The woman remained in front of him, seething, posture still locked in combative mode. And that pleased him as he cackled, ready to egg her on some more, "You're _jealous_."

"Really?" There was a silky purr in her voice that he was positive he wasn't comfortable with. It wasn't a nice purr, or even a sexy purr, just a malicious, nasty purr that couldn't signify anything pleasant in his immediate future. "If I was jealous, would I do this for you?" She pivoted to the side, preparing to yell out, "Tira! Come snogg with your master." Always one to do as told, she prepared to do as so with a big grin, dropping whatever she had been doing to come towards them.

He pivoted as well, mocking the overly dramatic movement, "Tira, you take once more step in this direction and I cut your eyes out." She came to an abrupt stop, obviously confused by the conflicting orders.

Meanwhile, Valentine was beaming, one brow raised playfully as she regarded Gotham's most feared villain, leaning towards him conspiratorially, "Violence does not become you, handsome."

He re-licked his scars, leaning right back towards her, hands held up in mock innocence, "And your horns and pitchfork are equally off putting, but you don't hear me complaining."

From the way the woman's mouth opened and closed mutely, her features sculpted into a shocked expression, he assumed he'd won the round.

Finally, she smiled, bowing her head in acceptance, "Touché."

This was going to work out well, he decided, offering her his arm. With another curt nod of her head, and, he suspected, a snide look in Tira's immediate direction, she accepted his invitation, allowing him to lead him up to her new room. The rest of the evening was going to be...interesting to say the least.

* * *

Sky: Y'know, I've noticed that whenever I say something is gonna happen in a chapter, it rarely does. Must be so type of curse. Either way, Tira (still can't understand why she garners so much dislike, she had one line! ONE!) didn't get beat down as much I was expecting her to. Know why? Cause I had to cut the damn chapter in half for pacing reason! ARGH!

Val: Hun, stop worrying, I'll beat her face in _next _chapter.

Joker: TRUE DAT! (maniacal giggle)

Sky: (Staring) Sometimes I worry getting you two together to help with my disclaimer section wasn't the best idea. So, uh, while I try and survive these two, you guys review. Till next time…hopefully I'll still have the shreds of my sanity…..

Joker: (cackling) No guarantee.


	11. Chapter 11: All In A Name

Sky: (Coughs) So uh...this chapter was supposed to be done for ya'll on Thursday. But it wasn't. And then I was gonna update it on Sunday. But I didn't. And _then_ we went on a quest to find Val a theme song. And were attacked by zombies... 0o

Val: (Crooning very poorly) _Not knowing you'd change from just one bight..._

Joker: (Laughing/singing/clutching Val dramatically) _I fought them all off just to hold you safe and tight... _(They snicker)

Sky: (Glares) _So_ not funny. Or the right song. We decided Baumer's "In Your Stead" was a fitting theme song. Now, onwards to the belated chapter that _actually _features verbal sparing. YEEHAH!

* * *

**Chapter 11: All In A Name**

The walk to the room was surprisingly silent, neither of them feeling ready to talk again yet. Partly because both were feeling remarkably cheery and weren't in the mood for yet another round of sparing. Mostly because Tira was hovering just over their shoulders, barely a step behind them, ready to pounce on anything she could turn into either a fawning compliment of the Joker or a backhanded insult to his new toy. Either way, she remained with them, a discontent scowl plaguing her dark features, arms crossed irately over her ample cleavage.

Still walking arm in arm, more to fend off the foul creature traipsing around on their heels, the two exchanged exasperated looks, Valentine tossing her head irritably, half considering the concept of murder. From the smug, knowing look on her companions face, it was obvious that idea had already been flirting with his mind. Since his stalker remained among the living, it had obviously been dismissed. Meaning the woman had _some_ subtle use, or at least a small part in one of his new plans.

The silent, and irking, journey came to a jarring halt when they reached yet another door at which they stopped. Joker pulled a key from the depths of his trench coat. He hesitated for a moment, then stopped, turning to their unwelcome follower. He rolled his eyes, "Tira, this would be the time for you to _leave_." She gave him a doe eyed look that only resulted in another glare. "No, seriously, go," he waved her off. The sorrowful creature did as told, turning away and stalking off down the hall without a word. She did, however, pause long enough to favor Valentine with a poisonous glare.

The two remaining figures exchanged a smug little grin before Joker returned his attention to the door. With his traditional grin and flair for the dramatic, he waited for a moment before swinging the door open. With a wide sweeping motion of his slender arm and a mock bow, the man stepped aside for her to enter her new abode, the motion oozing more panache then one man ought to be gifted with. A small smile spread over her own features as she obliged him, stepping inside.

It was actually nicer then what she'd expected, especially from him. He was not, after all, the kind of man who bequeathed thoughtful, feminine gifts to those in his life. And definitely not to his toys. The place had elegant pieces of furniture, a bed, lamp stand, dresser, etc. The resulting image was actually rather lovely despite it's inherant gothic style.

The woman stepped a little further inside, running her fingers over the glossy surface of the new vanity, its wood newly varnished and elegant, Joker watching her careful inspection with an inhuman smirk bore solely from satisfaction. His toy was pleased; he could tell from her posture, once tense and apprehensive, now more relaxed, steps seeming slightly lighter, as though this simple gift had lifted an invisible chain from around the column of her neck.

She disappeared into the closet, then the bathroom; idly indulging her curiosity. He never made a move to stop her, continuing to lean easily against the door jam, never actually stepping over the invisible threshold into her new domain.

She returned, stopping near the middle of the rooms left wall, eyeing what could only be a second door. Since the bathroom was on the other side, as well as the closet, this portal was an obvious anomaly; an anomaly that amused her by the looks of it, since her features, moments earlier full of innocent adoration for his gift, had suddenly narrowed in smug realization. She leaned a shoulder against the wall in a mockingly accurate mirroring of his own posture, pointing towards the door, while glancing amusedly back to him, one narrow brow arched in bombastic inquisition. "Your gift is fabulous, handsome, but...where could this happen to lead?"

He shrugged it easily off, striding over to lean against the door jam opposite of her own. He glanced at it in mock curiosity, then at her, then back at the door before shrugging again. "_We-llll_, I'm no book learned ge-_nius_...but I would guess it _probably _leads next door. Or in the general vicinity of next door."

Valentine smirked again, her hand slipping to the door handle, brow still raised, "The question's who _**sleeps **_next door?" From the smug superiority, she obviously already knew, starting up their familiar game. It proved more to amuse them then accomplish anything. Turning the knob, she eased it open, obviously waiting for him to jump into action and smack her hand away. He didn't, just continuing to lean against the frame, painted features turned up in a rather feral mask of idle amusement.

She wasn't exactly sure what she expected. Something loud. Something boisterous. Something that echoed the personality of its jaded owner. What she got was nothing like that.

The adjoining room was immaculately clean, lacking everything other then the basic necessities, clean white sheets stretched over the bed. In direct contrast to her own room, this one lacked anything resembling elegance, proving to be nothing more then a superficial place to rest ones head. In all truth, from the white washed wood to the grey walls, the only thing impressive or identifying about the chamber was the absurd amount of knives decorating the vanity's surface. The utter normality of the place actually caused her to pause.

She turned around, a tired looking expression on her face, "_Please _tell me we don't have two knife wielding maniacs in the building…"

He scoffed, shaking his head before going to sit on the edge of her new bed. "Are you inferring those idiots downstairs actually have some talent? They'd most likely end up dismembering themselves. Takes skill to wield a knife, ya know?"

She snorted, "Yeah, without it you might end up doing something crazy…like scaring up your face."

"Or someone else's…."

She stuck her tongue out, closing the door to his room quietly, "So," her tone had taken on a certain easy drawl. He'd learned early on in their camaraderie that that meant she was ready and eager to play with him. "Connecting rooms? I thought I was the jealous one…"

Joker let out one of his traditional laughs, the high pitched sound preternaturally loud in the small room. He leaned back on the bed, sprawling out before waving away her comment, "Sorry, didn't want my little dolly getting molested by the bad, bad men downstairs."

"Well aren't we protective."

"Possessive, gorgeous, I'm _possessive._"

He laughed again, tired of indulging her on this subject. The conversation had grown boring to him. The officer pouted a bit, coming to stand beside the bed, face looking rather annoyed, glare landing pointedly on his still shoed feet. They were dirtying her new comforter. Suffering a purely feminine wash of distaste she swatted them away and over the edge of the bed where they could cause her no more grievances. "No shoes on the bed, dummy."

He giggled a bit, smacking his lips beyond her line of sight, holding up an arm apologetically from his prone position, "Sorry, mommy."

Valentine plopped down next to him, the two laying shoulder to shoulder, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling, a brief cease fire called between them. He turned over, putting on a cheery expression that would have looked more at home on the face of a gossipy teenager then a hardened killer. Coupled with the sloppy clown makeup, it looked like something torn directly out of a bad horror movie, despite the fact that he was not aiming towards being malicious. She caught the expression out of the corner of an eye, the ridiculous, exaggerated thing, forcing a chuckle. She suppressed the urge to smirk, "Something on your mind handsome?"

Joker rolled his eyes, "Something's _always _on my mind, mommy." His comment earned a hard jab in the ribs, causing him to giggle. "All you police are so _violent_. Always hittin' me."

"You always deserve it."

"There is that." He sighed, acting offended. "I was just thinking about how I should introduce you to the _family_."

She rolled over as well, feeling very much like she was back in high school, gossiping with her bestest girlfriend. Unfortunately, Joker wasn't quite so cuddly. Or nice…or blond for that matter. "Valentine suddenly go out of style?"

Another roll of the eyes, his tone becoming slower, almost as though he were explaining something to an intolerably slow child, "You can't use your _actual_ name, princess. You need an effective alias."

Continuing on her line of incompetence, she decided to tempt his patience once more, "Really? Ya don't say?"

"Yeah. Now pick a name. Or I assign you something stupid."

Valentine paused, staring up the wall on the other side of her companion in thought. The man licked his scars once more, letting out a heavy, aggravated sigh. He hated waiting. To stress the point, he began humming obnoxiously to himself, earning another glare. After what seemed like an eternity, she had finally made her choice. She smiled, flicking her gaze back to meet his own beady stare, "Nyx."

"Nyx?" He made a face, looking like having the word roll of his tongue was distasteful. "I thought _I _was supposed to name you something stupid! Don't take my fun!"

She crossed her arms over her chest, pouting, "What's wrong with Nyx?"

"It's just _weird_…"

"Say's the guys who parades around in clown makeup chasing a human bat…"

"To the bipolar officer who decided to follow said loon."

She glared, getting tired of being so horribly outmatched. The man seemed to have a scathing retort prepared for each and every one of her comments, a thing that was both oddly intriguing and impossibly irritating. Mostly irritating. "Look, the name just fits."

Propping himself up on his elbows, the traditionally imposing man sliding effortlessly back into his teenage girl parody once more, a smack of his crimson colored lips ruining the illusion. "Oh, yey!" Said he, his nasally voice cracking a bit in an attempt at innocent fascination. "Story time." Her lips quirked up with the ominous traces of a smile when he offhandedly bade her to continue.

She obliged him, "Nyx was the Greek goddess of night. More importantly, her mate was the supposedly darkness incarnate, and, it will fascinate you to know," she added with a grin, "was the son of chaos."

"I think I'd have liked that guys style."

"Aren't I always looking out for you, honey?"

Another little giggle, "Nyx it is, princess."

They stared at the ceiling again in silence till Valentine shifted awkwardly to face him better. Much to his chagrin, she seemed in the mood to chat some more rather then debate. "So, what does exactly does Tira _do_?"

"Besides walk around in low cut tops and piss you off?"

"Naturally."

" She needs better reasons then those to stay!?" He got hit again, this time on the arm, setting into new fits of jovial, high pitched hyena laughter. "You seriously wanna know?" A nod, he motioned for her to come closer, close enough so he could effortlessly whisper in her ear, a smug, superior gin on his disturbingly scarred face, "Well, to bad. I'm never serious." He paused, thinking. "Usually."

"You're not gonna tell me anything are you?" He nodded vigorously, causing her to groan. "Fine, be difficult." From the smile on his scarred features, it was obvious he was more then happy to oblige. "I don't suppose you have any big plans for tomorrow?"

"_Seriously_?" Another, glare and more laughter. "So _cranky_. And no, gorgeous, nothing big tomorrow. Just need to stop by a bank, make a _withdrawal_…."

"So you're gonna rob it?"

"Ya know, that you instantly assume I'm gonna commit a felony hurts my feelings…."

"Are you gonna rob it?"

"Well duh." This time it was the officer chuckling to herself, an ominous smile on her features. "It'll be _fun_. My way to test you out and all that crap. Have to be certain you won't embarrass me when I ask Batsy to come play."

"You're taking me along?"

She was getting the slow child look again, before he nodded, massaging his forehead tiredly, "As long as you can pass my little test after diner. Hell, you might even enjoy it," He paused, grinning absently to himself, "_Nyx_."

Tira knocked on the door frame, still looking a little hesitant at interrupting their conversation. "Diners done." Joker exchanged a grin with the officer, noting the change in her demeanor. The very sound of the woman's voice had caused her eyes to narrow dangerously, her back stiffening.

He smirked, jabbing her in the stomach with an elbow before rising, bending at the waist to level his face with hers once more. Already she was favoring him with a dark look, daring him to say anything at all. He was more then happy to oblige. "_Jealous_," he mouthed snidely.

She mouthed something back that was considerably less cordial.

* * *

Sky: THERE! A belated chapter eleven. And yes, it was also cut in half due to length. Can't bore ya'll with hugely massive updates now can I? Something tells me Joker and Val would be more then happy to complain but uh…they're busy _singing_…

J, V: (Joker is giggling madly, whilst Valentine is choking out tear wracked sobs) _But does anyone notice? But does anyone CAAAAAAAAAARRRE!? _

_Sky: (Rolls eyes)_ Good god. There goes my sanity again. Let's make a game of it, shall we? Who knows what song those loons are singing? Or….uh…you can just review. And I'll hug you for it. Cause everyone loves review hugs.


	12. Chapter 12: All Your Colors

* * *

Sky: Wow. A surprisingly large amount (If you used Google, well then you're a trixy devil, you are! ) of you guessed the song correctly; it _was _My Chemical Romance's "Early Sunsets Over Monroeville." Why did I have them singing it? Who knows. Maybe it's cause I love the song. Or maybe its a dark, secret tip off to how this story is gonna go down! Maybe's it's an ominous omen of how Valentine and Jokers relationship is gonna end up? ….You know, minus the confessions of undying love. And zombies….

Joker: You have no idea what you're talking about, do you?

Sky: NOPE! Now, onwards to a surprisingly long update that will have Tira haters leaping for Friggin joy. Oh…heh…and the Joker _might_ do something that either will make you cringe or smirk joyfully…I smirked. But then again…I'm _creepy_. ONWARDS!

* * *

**Chapter 12: All Your Colors**

Diner was, considering the company, a surprisingly dour occasion. The thugs, rightly wary of their new master, seldom risked conversing in anything louder then a strained whisper, the faint sound flitting around eerily in the still air. Valentine, sat silently in her own chair, positioned on the Joker's right, engaged in a futile staring competition with her soup. The murky liquid was discharging a rather interesting aroma and she wasn't entirely certain she trusted whatever substances the dark broth was keeping hidden from her probing eyes. The fact that Tira had whipped it up only served to make her extra wary.

Joker watched her play with the unidentifiable substance amusedly, having turned his attention away from the food as well. For the most part, he rarely ate. His presence at the table was purely symbolic, a forceful reminder to the lackey's of who was really in control here.

The awkward void of silence was filled however, by the nasally timbre of Miss Tira, the girl merrily chattering from his left side, still vainly attempting to catch her masters attentions. Occasionally, she'd reach out and grab his hand to emphasize a point and would receive a tired, condescending look in return.

He leaned back in his chair, gaze flicking absently between the two dissimilar women, one constantly dancing, fighting even, for his affections, the other realizing they were well beyond her reach, preferring friendly indifference to any attempt at intimacy. Both, however, seemed to share a common distaste for the other, a very heavy and unseen tension hanging like a death shroud over their seemingly cordial meal. He watched as his favored toy took another spoonful of soup, glared at it, dumping this one as well, the action meant to distract from her fuming countenance, her annoyance clearly visible as the other woman chattered obliviously her brazen, trivial words lacking the clever wit both he and the officer so fitfully strove for. Finally surrendering, his dolly, bright eyes narrowed, nudged her bowl to the side, giving him an imploring look, one of the few times she had openly asked for anything. He smacked his lips, wagging a disapproving finger at her intolerance. Considering his own actions, the motion seemed rather hypocritical.

She settled obediently back into her chair, respecting his authority enough not to challenge him in front of his peons. Not that she could have done much. If he so chose, he could easily put the woman down. Still, despite her apparent compliance, the officer fumed, trying to block out the trivial chit chat Tira was attempting to make.

It continued to amuse him. He'd counted on his toys distaste for the woman. And, just as he'd predicted, had been able to use this common enemy to both bind her more closely to him and degrade some of that idiotic morality the good Commissioner had so artfully grafted to her soul. If he asked, he was _almost _certain the woman wouldn't think twice of disposing of her competition. He cackled pleasantly to himself; it was all according to plan….

Yes, the truth was, despite his inherent love of chaos and spontaneity, he _did _plan. Often times they acted more as guidelines then a stoic set of rules, but he used them none the less. Chaos was, after all, an intricate art, and random acts of destruction rarely had the optimal effect. Like most things in his life, chaos was a game, one that required infinite amounts of time to master, the goal of which was to cause the most havoc with the least amount of effort. And now, after so many years of practice, he had mastered the intricate dance, so much in fact that it had become second nature to him.

Applying the same rule of thumb to the women, his choice had been sublimely easy. After accounting for the variables, for humans were, courtesy of their many flaws, considerably more difficult to predict, it had been strikingly obvious that Valentine, no, _Nyx, _would be a more effective agent of chaos.

Nyx; he chuckled at the ironic choice of name. A fortuitous similarity indeed. Feeling his eyes upon her, Valentine looked up, the arch in her brow signifying her curiosity. His dolly had oddly expressive eyebrows, he'd decided. Despite this, for it could sometimes be irritating to see that narrow brow quirk up at any given time, she would serve him well enough.

Of course, this left him with an extra toy.

And he had grown so _bored _of her. He snickered; there were ways, of course, to test both his dolly's devotion and dispose of the unwanted toy. He leaned towards Valentine, motioning for her to scoot closer. She did so, still looking rather perturbed. When she was close enough, he spoke in a remarkably soft whisper, "Ready for your gift, princess?"

Another suspicious twitch of her lips, the resulting emotion looking to be caught in tandem between caution and amusement, "Depends. Does your gift involve knifes and/or dismemberment?"

"Wouldn't be heartfelt without em."

Valentine shook her head, this time entirely amused, leaning back in her chair once more, deciding to be a good sport and humor him. He smirked, winking at her while brushing back a few rouge strands of oily hair from his face. Finished with his supposed preening, the man stood, the movement causing all the peons to lookup; even Tira ceased her mindless prattling long enough to pay attention, her star struck gaze following each of his motions with an otherworldly abandon that had Valentine sniggering into her glass of wine.

"Boys and girls," his voice, imposing without effort, resonated commandingly about the room, forcing all attention on him. The tone however, remained equally devious, a cruel smile twisting his features into a mask of vindictive amusement. "How about a game?" Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably at the mention of one of his "games." To sate him and his desire to be entertained usually required a bloody sport, one that the competitors rarely walked away from entirely intact. "As you all know, we have an appointment with Gotham's bank tomorrow. And, as an added bonus, we also have a new addition to the family. What say we try her out a bit before the big _show_, eh?" At the same moment that the room cheered, both Valentine and Tira eyes widened in realization, suddenly, and unwelcomingly, realizing where this was heading. And from the cruel glint flickering untamed in his dark eyes, it would be a stretch to assume both of them would come away from this uninjured. He'd turned his attention back to the officer, grin becoming more predatory, "Whadaya say, _Nyx_? Wanna put on a show for the troupe?"

She rolled her eyes, hands held up in supposed surrender, "I don't suppose I have an actual say in this?"

"Not really. Now, we need a brave opponent…" Neither woman held their breath, already knowing his choice. Despite this however, the man made a show of it, traipsing from one thug to the next, carefully inspecting them all. A sigh of relief passed through them all however, when he came to rest behind Tira once more. He draped an arm over her, resting his head on her shoulder so he could stare effectively at the woman across from them. "You'll do nicely, pet."

He watched in gleeful anticipation as the women regarded each other once more, this time more appraisingly. Not to his surprise, Tira came out looking remarkably satisfied with her odds. His doll on the other hand, looked more cautious, carefully taking into account the other woman's superior height, weight and, most likely, strength.

She did not look overly thrilled.

With a grand flourish of his hand, he dismissed himself from the now chattering table, everyone's attention now focused solely on the impending brawl. "I shall see you all in the rec room." He departed, something of a skip having found its way into his definitive gait. That had gone remarkably well, all things considered. Neither of the women had leapt over the table to throttle the other, no one had been drowned in their soup, no one had been poisoned…

Though, he admitted with a sinister chuckle, all those things would have been endlessly amusing.

The sound of angry footsteps brought him down from his high. "Joker!" He sighed, spinning around to meet the owner of the all to familiar voice with a mock smile, holding his arms up in surrender as the woman continued to storm towards him, obviously in a fuss. "What the hell were you thinking!?"

The slender man shrugged in feigned innocence, " Well, you kept complaining about how you wanted to get rid of Tira. It's not _my_ fault that you failed to specify exactly _how_ she should be gotten rid of. In all honesty, if your chalking this situation up to anyone, its _your_ fault for not being specific enough."

She glared, "I'm _not_ going to fight her."

Ah, there was that nuisance of a conscience again, the wretched thing rearing its ugly head once more, mocking him and his intricate little plans. At times like these, he had half a mind to beat the pitiful thing out of her and safe himself the hassle of dealing with her supposed morality. But that would break his toy, and her shattered remains wouldn't be half so entertaining. So he obliged her with another tired sigh, crossing his arms, "Why not? You seem proficient enough at kicking me in the shin when the situation calls for it. Or _doesn't, _for that matter."

"You _always_ deserve it."

"Your moral compass sure is a mercurial thing."

Valentine sighed, the sound ragged. She was going to surrender to him again, they both knew it; this was her last ditch effort to make peace with her conscience and justify her actions, "Look, it's nothing moral. I'd love to punch your groupies lights out; but let's face it, I might be faster but she's a hell of a lot stronger."

He smirked, "And taller."

She nodded, "There's that. And then there's the little known fact that I'm around five hundred shades of awful when it comes to close combat," when he raised an brow to question this, she simply shrugged, offering him a simple response, "I'm just not big enough to do much."

"Well then thank _heavens_ you didn't have a job that relied on your ability to defend yourself in near death situations…no….wait…"

"Shut up, Crusty. I shot stuff. Dead things don't tend to get in fist fights, ya know?"

He shook his head obligingly, reaching down into one of his coats deep pockets, searching for the familiar, cool material he was so fond of. With something of a proud smile, he withdrew a cruel looking knife, its edges ragged, seeming more suited to sawing then slicing, and placed the hilt in her hand. "Here. Use this, princess. My friend here is about as found of Tira as you are." He'd counted on this too, her caution. She was, after all, very small. At least compared to Tira.

She stared at the blade, curiosity written across the planes of her face as she absently brushed a thumb over the smooth, polished blade. From the way her posture relaxed, the gesture had had the desired effect, soothing her frayed nerves slightly. She gave it an experimental flick before returning her attention to him, this time smiling, "I can't throw a punch, but you think I can use this?"

Joker sighed, putting on his slow child tone again, the one he reserved especially for her, "Look, just swing in her general direction and you'll come out….uh…_reasonably,_ unscathed."

He received a lame stare in return. "Well aren't we reassuring." Of course, he'd never really aimed towards it.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Moments later, they were standing in the rec room, the thugs already having gathered and Tira waiting expectantly. Valentine flashed one final dark glance at companion before returning the full of her attention to the situation at hand. Much to her chagrin, the impossibly tall woman seemed infinitely more self assured.

Joker settled into a chair proffered to him by one of the newer employees. He smirked, resting his head on his elbow. "You ladies ready?" They both nodded, the officer still looking more reserved about this. He gave her a reassuring little wink, a thing she dismissed with a simple toss of the head. His dolly simply didn't understand the necessity of establishing her place in their little troupe. "Then let the games begin!"

In tune with his hysterical giggle, Valentine dropped into what she hoped was a defensive crouch, keeping the knife positioned between the two of them.

Tira paused for a moment, casting a quizzical glance in her master's direction, "We can use knives, Jokesy?" The man bristled a bit at her pet name, but nodded in affirmation, smirking when his favored doll let out a indignant huff at his betrayal. Still, the taller woman grinned, excepting a knife of her own from one of the eager thugs.

Valentine made a face in his direction, "Well thanks there, Crusty."

He waved it off, "Don't mention it."

Tira lunged forward, making a wild stabbing motion with her new weapon. Her guard still up, Valentine quickly side stepped the clumsy stroke, trying to bring the knife back around in her own counter offensive. The taller woman, still off balance, let out a mute gasp as the jagged edge of the officer's borrowed dagger cut cleanly across her upper arm, leaving an angry crimson mark. From across the way, both the thugs and their master cheered, the latter letting out a small shriek of excitement, clapping his hands gleefully together.

Feeling a little more confident with her odds, Valentine dropped into her crouch once more, this time positioning her knife lower. Tira had learned something of caution from her mistake though, and didn't look overly keen on charging blindly forward again. She smirked inwardly, _clever girl_.

They circled each other for a moment, their previous expressions reversed. Joker sighed loudly from his ring side position, angry they weren't spilling each other's blood in a more timely fashion, caution having become the predominant factor in their little scuffle. Gritting her teeth, Valentine maneuvered closer, taking a quick test swing; it passed harmlessly through empty air.

Noting something of a hole in her opponents left side, she lunged forward again, this time bringing the knife around in a horizontal stroke. Tira's eyes widened somewhat, but instead of ducking or bobbing out of the way, the larger woman remained rooted in place, preparing her own swing. Both hits managed to hit home, Valentine forced to break her initial speed, and, with it, the force of her stroke, as the knife cut cleanly over her hip, painfully connecting with the bone, her own strike merely grazing the woman's collar bone.

Her maltreated leg screamed in outrage as she forced her weight upon it, managing to subdue the vehement pain long enough to bring the knife back around in a another wide arc. It was a clumsy, awkward thing but it slid under the staggering woman's guard, nicking her rips and tearing with brutal efficiency over her exposed torso. Letting out a gasp of pain, the woman collapsed, her breath coming in shallow ragged gasps.

Valentine stood panting, the life dangling limply in one hand, the other pressed forcefully to the oozing gash on her hip. Her movements had torn the ugly thing open widely, the painful laceration now bleeding more profusely. Eyes narrowed, she turned away from the broken woman and towards the Joker. The man was already on his way over, slowly clapping his gloved hands. "See, princess, I knew ya had it in you." He smirked, the expression cold on his painted features, "Rule of thumb though, never turn your back on a wounded dog."

Almost on cue, Tira leapt up once more, swinging her knife low. Thanks to his warning, the officer spun, trying frantically to get her own borrowed blade between them. The movement served only to slow the stroke rather then deter it however, and the knife cut cleanly though both the thing fabric of pants and the skin of her upper thigh. Shocked, and with a yelp of pain, she dropped to her knees, clutching the blossoming gash protectively, bighting her lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from screaming out again.

Pressing her newly acquired advantage, Tira brought the knife around in a second arc, this aimed towards the prone woman's chest. To chagrin however, it never hit home.

As Valentine's body involuntarily tightened in anticipation of the killing thrust, a third knife intercepted the blow, elegantly turned it aside. Joker stepped between the women, scowling as he advanced on the treacherous creature. Her next stroke was swung out wide as well, the skilled man easily deflecting the clumsy swing.

She watched shocked as hs advanced, balled his fist and swung forcefully at Tira's jaw. It connected with a sickening crack of bone, the girl collapsing in a tattered heap.

Still fuming, the angular shadow made his way back to her side. Grabbing her roughly under her arms, Joker hauled her gracelessly to her feet, the motion causing her to scream in agony as the rapid movement tore her gash open wider. Without a word, or even a sympathetic glance, he drug her back to Tira's prone form.

"Now," he purred, the silky tone surprisingly vicious, "You've learned. Give you enemy a second chance and they'll use it to put a knife in your back. Or thigh, apparently." He nodded towards the broken woman's inelegant form, "Be a dear and end this."

She shook her head, trying to move away from him. The man had an arm wrapped securely around her waist however, both supporting her dangerously swaying figure and holding her firmly in place, "I can't kill her for you."

He smirked, smacking his lips teasingly together, as though to say she couldn't be further from the truth. "It'll be easy, gorgeous. Just a quick stroke. Nothing new, you've killed before after all. For your good Co-_missioner_. _One _little, tiny stroke and I'll let you sleep…"

She gritted her teeth, biting her lip to keep from obliging him. He was right; she had been forced to kill before. And it would be _so_ much easier to just execute the girl. He'd let her rest and she'd be rid of the nuisance of a woman….

Still, she shook her head in denial. She hardly bore any love for the simpering creature, but the woman _was _defenseless. She wasn't about to commit such a cowardly act. "I'm not going to stoop to your level, handsome.:

He gave her a toothy grin, revealing again his yellowed maw. Now, when he could actually, and easily, hurt her, it seemed far more disturbing. He jerked her arm forcefully up, clutching her hand tightly, forcing her to retain her own grasp on the knife. He was purring in her ear again, "Then I'll _drag_ you down." He nodded to one of the goons. The man obediently stepped forward, pulling Tira's body up and into a standing position. The Joker cackled maliciously, guiding her hand to the prone woman's neck. With a harsh jerk on her wrist, he forced the blade to carve a crimson path over the exposed throat, the soft flesh willingly giving way under the impossibly keen edge.

The thug released his hold on his prisoner, Tira's corpse falling lifelessly to the floor. After a moments hesitation, another man stepped forward to bear the body away. In time, each of the thugs cleared out, silently whispering amongst themselves.

Still grinning, Joker released his hold on her wrist, sending the knife clattering to the floor, unnoticed. In a smooth motion, he spun the woman in his arms to face him. Her bright eyes had narrowed in righteous indignation, staring up into his defiantly. The only effect it had was to make him laugh. He brushed a few strands of her renegade hair aside, tucking them gently behind her ear, "See how easy that was, princess?"

Her voice was surprisingly cold, and, despite her complete dependence on his support, she moved her face away from his touch, "You made me a murderer."

He nodded blithely, "As Gordon attempted to make you a saint." He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze despite her defiance, "But where the Commissioner failed, I can succeed. After all," he was purring now, face lowered near hers, "White is so easily stained."

He cackled at her repulsed reaction, tightening his grip around her waist, one hand dropping to rest on her hip. The woman winced in obvious pain, uttering a tiny shriek of pain as he purposefully dug his fingers into the raw gash, clawing at the already throbbing wound.

Retrieving his hand, he held it up before her face, making sure that, even with her addled mind, she could fully comprehend, that despite her status as his favorite toy, he was more then willing to hurt her when she disobeyed him. She whimpered again, her vision growing unbearably foggy, legs giving way completely beneath her. He did not, however, allow her to collapse as he had Tira, retaining his hold on her. Smiling once more, he licked the crimson shade adorning his lips, brushing his newly blood covered hand through her hair with insulting familiarity. Disgusted though she might have been, the motion soothed her, eyes growing heavy, head slumping against his shoulder.

"Go to sleep, princess. We've got a bank to rob tomorrow." Whatever qualms she may have had with him, they eased to the back of her subconscious, mental exhaustion and blood loss taking finally taking their toll. He continued stroking her hair as her eyes dulled and finally closed, her ragged breathing becoming more even as she slipped further into a pain induced coma.

Joker cackled quietly to himself in the dark room, a gleeful light flickering in his eyes as he took in the gore stained room.

This was going to be _fun. _

* * *

Sky: That was longer then I expected it to be, technically I could have cut this in half as well, but, I needed to get to the heist! I HAD TO! So, my most sincere apologies for the length….but on the upside, Tira's dead! All you haters rejoice!

Valentine: DUDE, WHAT THE HELL!? (Punches Joker) The first time you get to cuddle me in the story and you're digging your spindly fingers into one of my bleeding, gory wounds!?

Joker: I was teaching you a _lesson…._

Valentine: No, no lessons you freak! I'm gonna kick your painted ass!

Sky: 0o. Uh…Next chapter is the heist. And uh…if you want to save Joker….I recommend you review….Till next time, dear readers!


	13. Chapter 13: Breaking Point

Sky_: I_ RETURN TRUIMPHANT! The chapter done, the Joker saved…

Joker:_ (Irritably massaging bruised arm)_ But not till after you let Princess here go all Aliens/Underworld Heroine on me….

Valentine_: Hey, I_ wanted to have had you dress in drag again…but then everyone would be staring at your legs…

Joker: (Levels an accusing finger) JEALOUS!

Sky: Ah, the Joker and his fabulous legs. Now, onwards to part one of the bank heist that proved to be a freakin' nuisance. For the record, I am _so _not an action writer. Nope. This one is a romantic type writer…..Who. Can't. Write. Romance….wait….?

Joker: Whilst crazy here goes through a crisis, why don't ya'll read the chapter? I'm sure she'll be ready to rant at you, dear reader, once it's finished. Now read the chapter, THE JOKER COMMANDS YOU!

* * *

**Chapter 13: Breaking Point**

Valentine, despite her best efforts, woke up whimpering, a dull, incessant throbbing reverberating against the corners of her hazy mind, vision a colorless blur. The entirety of her body ached, completely unaccustomed to being put through such a rigorous, demanding ordeal, and the area around her hip blithely continued shooting a stream of nauseating pain through her senses. Moaning again, she pushed hard against the bed, slowly managing to ease herself up into an awkward sitting position.

From the looks of things, she was back in her new bedroom. The Joker, insufferable excuse for a man, must have brought her back here after she passed out, perhaps out of amusement, perhaps suffering a wash of purely human guilt. No, she corrected herself quickly, he was not capable of such an emotion; it had been because of her performance last night. The bloody, bloody, ordeal still fresh in her mind, the woman cringed involuntarily, unable to get Tira's dark eyes out of her thoughts, the way the Jokers hand had guided her own so easily across the woman's throat. It had been easy. Far to easy. Far to cold. And as much as she wanted to deny it, some sick, twisted part of her soul, the half the Joker had so artfully crafted in their time together, had enjoyed it. _Nyx _had enjoyed it. Disgusted with herself, she slumped back against the wall, the laceration across her hip sending out another dull jolt of pain to accompany the movement, a solemn reminder of her recent sins.

She bit her tongue, both in anger at the man for inflicting this torment upon her, and at herself for not fighting harder against it. Not that she really could; despite their friendly, competitive little verbal duels, he was constantly reminding her who truly held sway in their accord. And, as he had demonstrated so callously last night, when it came down to it, without a gun at least, she was truly helpless. The officer growled to herself, suppressing such thoughts forcefully, hating how weak they made her feel. Instead, she turned her attention to her new abrasion, replacing distress with anger.

The thing had, thanks to its awkward location, been clumsily bandaged, thick strands of gauze forming a makeshift scab, the entirety of it soaked through, leaving the sticky mound of cloth resting oppressively against her skin, dank and uncomfortable. She lifted the corner of the macabre fabric to see what had become of the _actual _cut. The wide, entirely angry looking gash remained, though the blood flow had finally ceased, the skin immediately around the offended area bruised and torn. In the wound itself were jagged, uneven tears that failed to match the originally smooth knife stroke. Those, she noticed grimly, were the gifts left by the Joker's probing fingers. What had been nothing more then a thin scrape was now a movement impeding monstrosity, the thing both truly ugly and marring against her pale skin. Angry at this new, and unwelcome, addition to her form, she cursed.

"Now, now ,beautiful, language like that isn't appropriate for a lady."

Though her vision remained foggy, she managed to track the location of the voice, the blur leaning nonchalantly against the door that joined their two rooms. The figure strode closer, its steps light and jovial, features slowly filling out into the familiar mask of the Joker, his garish figure deceptively elegant in the dim light. He was, she could see, quite proud of his work. The corner of the bed dipped under his weight as he claimed it as his seat, his hand reaching out to lift the corner of the bandage much as she had done. The dank thing covered the tips of his gloves in a sticky substance, but rather then appearing disgusted, he cackled cheerfully to himself, nodding towards the ragged tears he'd been gracious enough to inflict, "I'd say you're gonna have a really pretty scar there, princess."

She slapped his hand away as harshly as she dared, quickly covering the embarrassing tear. Head tilted arrogantly up, she managed what she hoped was a warning tone, "Would you like one to match it?"

Another little giggle, the man completely un-phased by her threat. "Another time, another time. Right now, we've got a bank to rob." He disappeared from her limited line of vision once more, humming jovially to himself before she could object to, or even rationalize, what he was requesting. When he returned, he was carrying new bandages, some sort of alcohol and what appeared to be an impressive cocktail of medication. He handed her the pills, his gaze instructing her to take as many as required to numb the pain, then returned his attention to the mark on her hip, removing the old bandage.

She yelped, actually yelped, when he poured the alcohol over it, the liquid horrendously cold and stinging in the tender flesh. He made no attempt at apologizing, just continued methodically onwards with his task, folding the majority of the gauze into a thick square, holding this over the largest section of the cut. With another piece of fabric, he wrapped it around her waist in something of a sling, then tied it off, binding it securely in place.

He smiled proudly, "Ta-**da**! Now, up and at em!"

"In case you didn't notice when you were tending to that bloody thing on my hip, I'm sort of bed ridden."

He didn't seem phased in the least, merrily chirping on, "That's what the drugs were for, beautiful. Now up, or I'll be forced to duplicate that gash of yours on your pretty little face."

Valentine grumbled darkly to herself, casting a dark, irritable glance in the twisted creatures direction. With more effort then one should require, she managed to get to the end of the bed. On shaky legs, she slid off her safety net, suddenly on her own. Seeing that she could stand, she gave him a proud look.

He was still looking smug, but not because she'd managed to stand on her own two feet. As he had expected, a look of horror crossed the poor girls features as her strength left her. Flailing her arms, she collapsed in a tattered, and completely graceless, heap. He stepped over, skipping now, bent, and leveled his smiling visage next to her own face. "You alright there, princess?"

From beneath the depths of her mangled, blood soaked mane, she managed a glare.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Despite all her best efforts and protests, and, of course, the logical argument that she would hardly be able to walk without his assistance, the Joker had insisted she come with them on this little venture, promising it'd be entertaining. Considering his last "gift" to her, the woman was rightly suspicious of his motives.

And now Valentine found herself actually _clinging _to his arm, sheer terror gripping her every fiber as the car flew over yet another bump in the road at a ridiculously high speed. Despite the incompetence of their driver, and the man surely was considering the lack of skill he seemed so bent of displaying, the men in the car whooped in excitement, even the Joker cackling good naturedly at the exhilaration. He draped an arm, the one she had previously been clutching for dear life, around her shoulder, smirking at her horror stricken expression, "Somethin' wrong there, angel?"

As a response, the car sailed over yet another pot hole, landing with a significant lack of grace, jostling its inhabitants. Even with the painkillers, the roughness of the trip was beginning to irritate her still fresh wound. She was half sure another such movement would tear the still tacky scab. _Ugh. _Her stomach did another nauseating turn.

Despite her current irritation with, and initial dislike of, the Joker, she wrapped her arms securely around his torso, using the much sturdier man as a makeshift brace. To her immense relief, he turned out to be a much more effective anchor then her seat belt. The man gave her a distasteful look, appearing to be caught between the urge to shove her unwelcome figure away and the immense desire to tease her for being so weak. He tensed momentarily, but never actually made any attempt to remove her. With a certain sardonic smirk though, he whispered, low enough so that, in the noisy chaos of the vehicle, only she could hear him, "Knew you found me irresistible."

She pinched him. Hard. "Don't flatter yourself, Crusty. I had to choose between using you or thug number three as my brace."

"I still won."

No matter how angry she was, she actually smiled at that, relieved that she was able to hide the traitorous expression in his coat as the car bounced once more. Noting the look of discomfort plaguing her features, he actually growled, snapping something irritable to the driver. Whatever he'd said must have been effective though, as they slowed to a much more reasonable speed. The officer flashed him an appreciative smile.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

With a little help from one of the thugs…Jansen, she thought it was, she managed to escape the van primarily unscathed. She gave him an appreciative smile, turning her attention back to the others. The man smiled at her good naturedly, handing her a spare clown mask. She felt ridiculous, but slid it over her face regardless.

Every other lackey was already giddy, waiting not so patiently for their master to turn them loose upon the establishment. Said master looked equally amused, waiting for some unknowable sigh before he continued. After a moment, he nodded that it was alright to continue.

"Boss," that was Jansen, looking puzzled, "What about the alarm?"

Joker grinned, smacking his crimson lips together, "That's what _Nyx_ here is for! Alright, honey, theoretically, how long would it take for the police to get here and crash our party?"

She glanced around, trying to pinpoint their exact location and remember the closest station. She finally shrugged, "If you to afford them no traffic and immediate response, I'd say you'd need to get in an out in roughly fifteen minutes. Starting after they trigger the silent alarm of course."

He nodded blithely. Almost as an afterthought, he gave the boys a lewd grin, shoving her newest savior out of the way before draping an arm over the staggering woman's shoulder. He winked at them, "Ironically, that's exactly what she told me last night."

She grinned up at him, the expression remarkably cold as the thugs guffawed and snickered knowingly, "Baby, you couldn't last five, let alone fifteen."

"That sounds like a challenge."

"Interesting, since I meant it as a put down."

He cackled, pleased to be matching wits with her once more, motioning for the starkly confused peons to go on inside and get the show started. Unbeknownst to them, he'd already had the silent alarm disabled. For policy sakes however, he neglected to mention this fact. They seemed to work much more precisely when impending doom hovered on the horizon. When they were gone, and terrified screams coursed out of the building, he returned his attention to the woman clinging to him, "It's good to see that nasty cut of yours hasn't affected your _winning _personality."

An apologetic smile, "Sorry, handsome. Insulting you is just a reflex."

"And shin kicking."

"You know me well." She remained rather annoyed, staring venomously after the departed figures, "Mind telling me why they think you're screwing me after a day?"

He gave her a bawdy wink, "How long do you think it took me to get Tira?"

Suddenly, Valentine didn't feel half so guilty about killing the other woman.

On her disgusted expression, and his joyful giggle, the duo strode inside after their employees, the tall man throwing the doors open with dramatic abandon.

"Morning, good citi-_zens_ of _Goth-__**am**_!"

Valentine found herself impressed. Even this simple phrase from the man served to send the entirety of the bank into a panic, screams of terror flooding the room. Pleased, the Joker continued, traipsing pleasantly along, smacking his lips. She almost smiled, he looked so very at ease in the chaos, as though he'd finally found his element. It was actually a rather striking thing to watch, as he went about his art, threatening a person here and there, aiming a gun at someone's head, purring something dangerous every once and a while. _This_ was where he was comfortable.

The darker half of her, Nyx, nearly beamed, fascinated by the show. Valentine just tried just not to be appalled by the sheer lack of humanity.

Jansen came out of the back, running towards them, looking pleased, "Safe's cracked boss. We'll be out of here in a few minutes."

The Joker grinned, glanced towards the officer, then licked his scars, a sigh that he was intending to do something entirely unpleasant, "Then I better get to today's lessons."

She stared at him, puzzled, "Lesson?"

Another smirk. He handed her off to Jansen, strutting a little further off, then spun back around to address her with an elaborate, sweeping wave of the hand. "Why do ya think I insisted on draggin' you along today? Now then," he returned to his apparent search, let out a pleased exclamation and crossed to the counters. "You'll do nicely!" One of the tellers, a young girl, Valentine would have estimated she was barely in her twenties, let out a terrified wail as he seized her by the collar, hauling her over the counter. "Ssh, ssh. You're gonna help me teach my little doll as lesson. M'kay?"

As he approached them with the squirming girl, Valentine felt her stomach sink.

* * *

Sky: _Ooooooh_…what's gonna happen…? Don't know exactly why I'm askin'. You don't know. I do, of course. And it's pretty sweeeeeeeet….ya know…depending on your definition of that word.

Valentine: You are an odd, odd girl, you know that?

Sky: Of course I know that, silly! Now, onwards to deal making! I'm gonna offer all you dear, lovely readers a deal. If get fifteen reviews, well then uh….I'll do something special. Or better yet! Ya'll can _order_ me to do something and I'll try to do it for you! Why can I do this? Cause I have the nagging feeling a bunch of you trixy devils are gonna ask for the same thing. Is fifteen a bit steep? Sure. But I'm in the mood to play, so let the game begin! Till the next chapter, in which we see what becomes of nameless teller chicky and Valentines vaunted morality!


	14. Chapter 14: Chains

* * *

Sky: Woah. Seriously guys, thank you so much! You gave me the amount of reviews I asked for and then some! You all deserve review hugs! (hugs) Unfortunately…none of you actually _asked_ for anything, which was sort of surprising. Ah well, here's the next chapter! As per Keeper of The Cheese's request, the nameless bank teller now has a name. So if she happens to her or she gets offed somewhere along the road, you can all feel horribly guilty! This is kind of a short chapter, and that's mostly dialogue/character development, but it needed to stand on it's own. Here goes!

* * *

**Chapter 14: Chains**

"Now, now, no need to squirm, pretty thing, just hold _still_ and we'll all get out of this A-_O-Kay_," Valentine felt dread growing in the pit of her stomach, knowing very well where this was heading as the Joker forced the young woman into compliancy. The poor thing stared up at him with big, terror filled eyes, tears streaming soundlessly down her cheeks, perhaps from the pain of his vice like grasp, perhaps from the stress of the situation. Despite the circumstances though, there was the faintest ember of hope buried in those eyes, a youthful naiveté that allowed her to believe this might all turn out okay in the end. That, like all those fairy tells she'd been fed incessantly throughout her child hood, her night in shining armor would arrive and take her away from this monster….

He wouldn't; Valentine knew better.

The older woman's posture stiffened, Joker having brought out one of his favorite toys, placing the knife at the corner of the bank clerk's lips. He was smiling coldly now, his tone a deceptively friendly purr, painted face held impossibly close to the whimpering girls. "You have a name, pretty thing?" She nodded weakly, eyes screwed shut, nodding towards the little name tag on her shirt. "Rose, eh? Rose, it is. Now, _Rose_, you see that pretty thing over there; right there? Look at _her_," her seized her chin, turning it brusquely towards the officer, causing her to let out another wail, "You see her? Now, she's my new. Little. _Dolly_. And, _unfortun-ate-ly_, she just doesn't know how to play right. I. Can't. Play. With. A. Broken. Toy, now can I , Rose?" Another weak nod, and his smile became even wider, showing off those yellowed teeth. " Good. Now, you're gonna be a _good_ little girl, and help me teach my dolly how to play…."

"Joker, stop it now!" This outraged cry came from the officer, the woman having stepped away from Jansen, standing on her own unsteady legs, her stance taking on a challenging, angry note.

He let out a high pitched cackle, throwing his head back in amusement. Valentine waited patiently for him to finish, eyes narrowed and fixed solely on his convulsing form. After another moment, his laughter died down to a chuckle and, with an amused nod of the head, he turned to to meet her gaze, "Oh princess, don't ya get it? This is for. Your. Own. _Good_."

She titled her head arrogantly up, posture defiant, "Killing an innocent girl is for my own good?"

"The girl? Not so much. I mean, she _is_ just. A. Girl," he licked his lips, brushing a strand of his oily, green tinted hair, away from his artificially white forehead. "Killing _her_ really won't do you much good. Unless you get off on that kind of thing…then it _might_ help, _but_…If you kill what the girl _stands _for, well…then it'll do you a _world _of good, princess." He turned his attention back to his terrified hostage, brushing a hand through her hair like one might a frightened child. Still the officer watched him cautiously, obviously confused by his last statement. This was his new game, forcing her to confront her past. His way of forcing her to confront Gordon and the sense of justice that had been forcefully shoved upon her. If she was going to be an asset to him, she'd need to free herself from any moral code. "Tell me, _Rose_, how old are you?" She whimpered, not able to answer with the knife placed so precariously in her mouth. He held her jaw again, this time squeezing a decent portion of her tear stained face, "How. Old. Are. You. Rose?"

"Joker, **stop**!"

The girl whimpered, "Twenty…"

His smiled wider, the frightening scars becoming one with the expression, "Good girl, good girl. See, just. Play. Along." He cocked his head to the side, gaze flicking to Valentine once more, "And how old were you, princess, when you worked at a bank, oh so similar, to Rose here?"

She squared her jaw, raising her head in defiance, "Twenty."

A condescending nod of the head, his jovial expression remaining, "Twenty years old, just like Rose. Held up at a bank, just. Like. _Rose_. Startling to see a similarity here, princess? And now, let's give Rose a chance to end up just like _you_. Playing the part of Com_-missioner _Gordon in our little act, we turn the spotlight on you, Miss _Nyx_." He nodded towards Jansen who, with a look of suspicion, handed his gun over to the officer. Joker smirked at the woman's horrified expression, before he turned back to Rose, "Alright Rose, remember my dolly? _She _gets to choose whether you live," He flicked his eyes back to Valentine in challenge, "Or die." He smiled, giving the knife a warning twitch, just enough to draw a fleck of blood, "C'mon, princess, now you have to choose. You can kill the girl, and your past and debt to Gordon with her, or you can shoot _me_, and keep the cycle going. It's your move."

The officer stared at him, furious. He had, true to his word, forced her to play. And face her past. Valentine felt all the color drain from her face, her mind waging a war on itself once more, all at once throwing her into a state of mental turmoil. Half of her, her morality and sense of justice, were outraged by the situation, completely furious that he would dare attempt such a thing, and demanded her to lash out the man prompting all this. Nyx, on the other hand, was begging her to level that gun at Rose's head. She was _tired _of being indebted to Gordon, _tired_ of answering to anyone other then herself. Nyx craved only the Joker's approval and her own satiation. And this allowed for both.

Valentine adjusted her grip on the gun, cocked it, and leveled it right as his head, deciding to resist her darker urges once more. Her expression remained cold, though perhaps, with a trace of doubt dancing around the corners of her eyes, voice surprisingly soft, "Joker, let her go, please."

"We're _running _out of time here, princess…"

"Joker…."

His nasally voice took on a warning tone, "I'm. Getting. _Bored_._…_"

She readjusted her grip on the gun, planting her feet, ready to fire if necessary, "Please let her go…."

The man sighed, exchanging a mock-sympathetic look with his hostage, then another glance at the officer. There was still an excessive amount of confusion playing across her features, making her aim falter, making her seem far less assured then she aught to have been. He waited another moment, then shook his head, offering a heavy sigh. "Very well then…." And with a deadly twitch of the wrist, he drug the knife up over Rose's cheek, forming half of the familiar Jack-O-Lantern smile. The officer screamed something out, but never fired, just watched horrified as he completed the gory task, leaving to poor girl's face horribly mangled. Still alive and bleeding, he dropped her to the floor, turning an irritable glance in his dolls direction. Despite this though, he offered her a dark, vicious smile. "You're not done yet, princess. Let's see if we can motivate that morality of yours again."

He strutted back to the counters, chuckling deviously to himself. His gaze passed appraisingly over the hostages, looking once more for someone like Rose. With a smack of his crimson painted lips, he seized another woman by the arm, shoving the screaming female into the arms of a waiting thug. He inclined his head, extending his arm in a sweeping gesture, "Shoot. Prove your devotion to me. Kill for me."

Valentine, still shocked, stared at him, her features stony and hard, throwing the gun at his feet, shaking her head, "I won't kill her to appease your appetites. Or my guilt."

Joker's features turned up in a wicked grin as he retrieved the gun at his feet. Unaffected by the tenseness of the situation, the man strode back over to her, circling her with predatory ease, sadistic pleasure glinting in his eyes as the former officers gaze tracked each of his movements cautiously. The woman stiffened involuntarily as he stepped into her, pinning her back against his chest, rooting her firmly in place. He lent down, the side of his scarred mouth brushing uncomfortably against her ear, "Oh, but you will beautiful. You see," his voice was nothing more then a velvety purr in her ear as he motioned to another thug. He cackled as the lackey seized a young boy, no older then Gordon's son, the one she was _so _fond of, and leveled a gun at his head. An outraged gasp escaped her lips as she tried to turn. Fingers dug painfully into the freshly torn flesh of her hip, further holding her. He chuckled again, and she felt the butt of the pistol press against her open hand, "I can _always_ make it worse. Now, either you can behave like a good little girl and do as told, or the boy dies. I'm _tired_ of your morality."

"You can't…!"

"Oh, but I can beautiful, I can. You, see, this town…well, it's _my _playground. And Batsy doesn't want to play. What's a guy to do, huh? I'm just _entertaining_ myself. Now," he dug his fingers into the gash again, causing her to wince in pain, face screwing up, "Entertain me."

Valentine whimpered, her voice weak, her alter ego waging war on her morality once more, pain and doubt battling for dominance in her tone, "I _can't_."

He was cooing to her again, edging her arm up much as he had done against Tira. He was going to force the decision if she didn't make a choice soon. "Oh, but you can, so simple. Ssh, ssh, ssh, just. Pull. The. Trigger. Easy."

She growled, gritting her teeth, "Fine." Once again, she lifted the gun, leveling it at the shaking woman's head. Just before squeezing off the round however, she jerked it forcefully up. The hostage screamed, struggling fretfully against her captor. Instead, however, of the woman dropping dead, the thug behind her slunk to the floor, gurgling gruesomely as liquid filled his mouth. Shocked, the girl took off, running to hide. Valentine spun on her heel, mustering as much grace as she could, to glare up at the man triumphantly.

Rather then looking angry however, or even shocked, the man laughed, his entire figure shaking with barely contained mirth. She stared at him, shocked by such a reaction. "You're….laughing?"

Joker grinned, "Why wouldn't I, princess? You did what I wanted. You killed. Despite all your vaunted morality, you were more then willing to kill that man, without a second thought. Hell, he didn't even _provoke_ you. And you killed him." He continued to giggle, took a step back and ruffled her hair dismissively, going off to help his boys finish up.

Jansen exchanged an apologetic glance with the disgusted woman, perhaps sensing her confusion. Finally, he too, turned to follow his master. However, he stopped when he encountered the still bleeding Rose, her once pretty face scarred in a grotesque mimicry of the Joker's own scars. She was moaning in pain, clutching her face, sobbing.

The man turned back to Valentine, extending his hand to her, "Mind if I have that back?"

The officer glanced at the gun still in her hand unseeingly, almost not recognizing it. When he took a step towards her though, her eyes focused a bit more, and she shook her head. "No, I'll do it." She stepped forward, stopping near the broken little clerks form. She aimed the gun and fired.

And Nyx smiled.

* * *

Sky: Okay….That _may _have been a bit darker then I originally intended…but I'm oddly proud of it...

Valentine: ACK! I just killed a bunch of people!

Joker: I'm so proud. (Mock proud sob, giant hug for Val)

Sky: Um…..yeah and stuff…next time we have whole bunches of fun. Why? Cause we get to play with Nyx! And one of the characters from earlier in the story makes a reappearance! Anyone want to venture a guess as to who he is? You may just have to wait and see. Till next time, dear readers!


	15. Chapter 15: The Art Of Betrayal

Sky: Ya know, I love writing the Joker and Val…but, it was oddly refreshing to get to write a few different characters this time around. That's right! Time to party it up with….GORDON!

Valentine: Yeah….cause_ he_ throws a wild party if ever there was one. (rolls eyes) We couldn't even have _alcohol_ at our Christmas party! Mistletoe doesn't work if you aren't drunk! Joker, at our Christmas party, I demand inordinate amounts of hard liquor…

Joker: Yeah, sure, I'll get on that. Just gotta contact the rest of the Rouges Gallery and tell em' about our impromptu party celebrating an _infants _birth. Cause _that_ sound's villainy….

Valentine: Spoilsport.

Sky: While they discuss the finer points of drunken parties, why don't ya'll read the chapter? There's a super, extra special guest, who is not Gordon, in this one. And we introduce two new characters...who hopefully will be recieved a bit more kindly then Tira was. Now...ONWARDS!

* * *

**Chapter 15: The Art of Betrayal**

Bruce stared unseeingly out over the spires of Gotham city, the cool grays and blacks looking even more somber in the cloudy morning's subdued light then ever, a despondent echo of his own feelings. Depressed, disgruntled, cross; all these emotions currently applied to the cities favorite playboy. No levity played across his angular features as it often did in the early hours of the day, before his own problems, and those of others, hung around his shoulders like a suffocating weight. He sighed, massaging his temple with his thumb and forefinger, the sound preternaturally loud in the crisp silence of the penthouse.

Gotham, the city he'd fought so hard to protect, still weak from the Joker's incessant attacks months earlier, was under assault from crime again. And by the same man nonetheless.

The difference was, this time, there would be no white knight to keep the people together, standing as a shining pillar of courage and virtue in the midst of chaos, or to work as a unifying force as order up and went to hell. No, the Joker had gone to extreme lengths deny them that luxury, as well deserved as it was.

And there would be no dark knight for them either, their silent guardian forced to lay low, despite these new horrors. The feeling of helplessness brought his mood to a new low, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side subconsciously, trying to relieve some of his pent up frustration. It was as his arch rival had so eloquently put it; all that strength and nothing to do with it.

"I see you read the morning papers."

Bruce turned to see the newly appointed Commissioner bend and pick up the gracelessly discarded document from its crumpled position on the floor. It had, it seemed, suffered the side affects of his mood, thrown unceremoniously in the corner, crumpled and slightly torn. On the cover, the one section of the document that seemed to escape unscathed, was a picture of their much sought after villain, sporting his trademark grin, a picture of Batman juxtaposed. The similarities between the two of them never ceased to disgust Bruce, making him question his own morality at all times lest he stoop to the lunatics level.

"He got loose again, I let him get away," he growled, fists balling up again, a scowl coming across his casually placid features.

Gordon shook his head, settling down into a chair with the paper, glancing only briefly at the cover before setting it aside. This matter wore heavily on his mind as well the as others, both determined to find the man and get him back behind bars before the lunatics plans could escalate to their previous grandeur. Without Batman however, they remained at a serious disadvantage; there were, after all, only so many places the good Commissioner could walk. The Dark Knight had no boundaries.

"Bruce, as much as Batman needs to lay low, I think Gotham is going to need him more. The Joker cannot be allowed to wander Gotham's streets."

The young Wayne sighed again, coming to sit in the chair parallel to the Commissioners, his face drawn and tired from to many sleepless nights. In those dark eyes, righteous indignation and grief were battling for dominance. His gaze finally settled upon the older man, still quite torn between staying hidden for the late Dent's sake and fighting for the citizens of Gotham. Bruce finally shook his head, "The people aren't ready for Batman to return yet. Harvey's death is still to fresh in their minds; I'd just cause more chaos. And that's something I _can't _do."

The people did need him, he saw that. They were in desperate need of a hero, no matter how badly they despised him and he desperately wanted to step up for them once more. But he could _not_, under any circumstance, cause chaos amidst them; that was merely what the Joker desired.

Gordon nodded, understanding his reasoning, though not exactly agreeing with it, "They might not trust Batman. They might not even like him, but the citizens of Gotham will _always_ choose the lesser of two evils. Between Batman and the Joker, they will always choose Batman."

"They seemed more then willing to sacrifice him last time around."

"That's the glory of fear I'm afraid, though I suspect you know that better then I."

Bruce pondered that, then opened his mouth to respond. A beeping from the Commissioners pocket however, silencing whatever he'd intended. The older man pulled out his cell, glancing at the screen in curiosity. It was a number he'd never seen before, likely a pay phone. "Mind if I take this?" Bruce waved it off good naturedly, turning his attention to his thoughts as the older man answered the call.

Gordon was right, no matter how much the citizens distrusted him, it was his duty to bring Joker back in. He couldn't let what happened to Rachel befall others. He _wouldn't_. If that meant risking the ire of the populace, he would do it, if only for her memory.

"Ma'am, slow down," Bruce turned his attention back to the Commissioner, who had a puzzled look on his face. A high pitched squeaking was emitting from his phone, the shrill sound obviously the intonation of a very concerned person. The older man listened for another few moments, before nodding to himself, saying a curt goodbye into the phone and hanging up. He rose hastily, turning to the younger man, "Another robbery. I have to get down there."

"Another bank?" He got a nod. Bruce smiled, the expression rather darkly amused, thin lipped and almost smug. "Mind if I tag along?"

They shared a conspiratory grin, "I'm not sure it would feel right without you, Mr. Wayne."

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

There were numerous things about the Joker that Valentine often found herself admiring. His wickedly clever mind, his equally sharp tongue, the way his figure demanded reverence, no matter who he was keeping company with….

And his outfit.

As shallow as it was, the former officer found that one of her favorite things about the off kilter man was his eclectic choice of apparel. And as equally shallow as it was, she'd looked forward to getting such an outfit for herself.

Unfortunately, now that she had one, the novelty was rapidly wearing thin. It had been a fascinating venture, designing the costume, and, in theory, it had been a rather pretty piece of work, a lovely black cat suit with a reinforced corset type vest to protect against knifes, with an elegant masquerade style owl mask to cover her features….

The key note, however ,had been that it was lovely _in theory_. Now that she was wearing it she felt impossibly ridiculous, striding down the narrow corridor of the bank, her new stiletto styled boots clacking annoying against the granite flooring with every step she took. The boots had not, in fact, been her idea. The impossible things had been the Joker's one, and only, input to her attire, the man smugly insisting she would hardly look the part without a drastic boost in height.

Insufferable man.

Valentine sighed to herself, using the loud exhalation to drown out the clackety-clack sound her shoes seemed so bent on making, continuing towards the vault and Jansen. Considering his skill, and the amount of time she had afforded him, the man should have had the vault open by now.

It had been a _month_ since Joker had tried to "instruct" her. Following that, he'd continued to drag her along on his gang's little adventures, bent on breaking her and her vaunted code of morality, forcing her to kill until the act didn't seem quite so atrocious as before. To protect her sanity, she had however, divided herself a bit more, slipping into her Nyx persona whenever killing was required. Where Valentine felt regret, and even disgust, at murder, Nyx was capable of carrying it out without a second thought or a trace of guilt. It had, much to her distress, become almost a normality, something she did without much consideration. Using her alternate persona as a shield, she had managed to maneuver through his tests with as much grace as she could afford, keeping her code mostly whole.

A month, and, despite her initial disgust for what he was forcing her to do, things had cooled between them, allowing a return to the comfort of their previous, combative relationship. A month, and, after following his lead the entire time, he had finally afforded her the privilege of leading her own little escapade. This was, in effect, his final test for her. Not that she minded, things had slowly been getting monotonous.

She slowed her pace, cleared her thoughts, not enjoying the incessant voices in her head while she worked, and stepped into the room, having finally arrived.

It was remarkably bare beside the actual vault door and the four figures crouched in front of it, two of which she didn't recognize. Jansen was still working on opening the thing, his brow furrowed in concentration, a woman hovering just over his shoulder, one hand settled fondly on his shoulder for support, a smile gracing her features. She was more striking than lovely, with green eyes and tawny skin and hair, tall and elegantly built with features that were a tad to sharp for her narrow face. This was Elizabeth, his newly affianced, and the one woman in the troupe Valentine did not find herself constantly wishing to throttle. She smiled cheerfully towards her friend, giving her a small, friendly wave one would not have expected from a criminal of any sorts. Jansen merely offered her a curt nod before returning to his task.

Liz gave her a cursory glance, lips quirked up in amusement as the younger woman shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, obviously anxious, dangerously swaying as she adjusted to the height her boots afforded her, "Having some problems there, honey?"

She received a small, withering glare as a response, but this quickly turned up in a smile.

Jansen tugged the door to the vault open, turning to the women, a big grin on his oversized features, "Pack your bags, girls, we're in." His fiancé gave him a quick kiss before stepping into the new area, a duffle bag in tow. Valentine motioned for the other two, who had been standing idly by, not entirely certain what to make of their superiors conversation, to follow Liz into the vault and do likewise. Despite being considerably larger then her, they nodded obediently, not wanting to irritate the bosses favorite new toy.

Jansen watched the exchange amused, coming to lean beside her, draping a friendly arm around her shoulders. He chuckled a bit to himself, ignoring the way her brow arched in suspicion, "You're getting the hang of this."

She smirked, rolling her eyes in a mock display of arrogance, "When _didn't_ I have the hang of this?" This time it was his brow that arched, curious as the whether or not she _actually_ wanted to go down that road. She waved it off, "Never mind. Don't answer that."

He chuckled again, watching as the others finished loading the cash into the bags, slung them over their shoulders and departed to load them into the van. In short order they had it packed. Valentine exchanged a cursory glance with him, looking very much like she needed a hint as to what to do next. He made the "go away" motion with his hand.

Valentine nodded, straightened her shoulders, addressing the two thugs, "Alright, now that we've got the haul, you two drive back to base, tell Joker we'll be along just after we finish up here." the two nodded, piled into the van with a surprising lack of dexterity and drove off down the street

They watched them depart in silence, waiting for the van to get out of sight before turning to head back inside the bank. Liz skipped over, twining her arms around the officers waist, giving her a playful, sideways look, "I suppose you have a reason to keep us here…."

"Besides the pleasure of your company?"

"Of course."

Valentine grinned, giving her friend a playful little shake, "Who else is gonna help me round up the idiots inside?"

The woman's lips quirked unpleasantly, rolling her eyes as Valentine detangled herself from the half embrace and marched inside. She exchanged a quick glance with her fiancée before following their superior irritably inside. Never one to be discouraged, Liz managed to catch up to the brisk woman, draping her arm around her friends shoulders again. The officer, surprisingly, looked far from irritated by this.

They emerged into the lobby to find chaos had, indeed, broken loose. The peons had taken to threatening the already terror stricken hostages, though there was no merit for it, causing the poor people to scream and cry, the biting, incessant sounds crashing around the room, assaulting the newcomers ears with a relentless force. Valentine stifled the urge to smash her head into the wall at their incompetence.

Liz smirked as the woman's features twisted into a mask of displeasure and irritation, "You _might_ want to go over the proper decorum of robbery with them when, and if, we get out of this, mommy."

The woman whimpered, "Please, Liz, don't imply these bungling saps are in _any_ way descended from me…"

Another smirk, "Take charge, honey, your children need you."

Jansen snickered from behind them, shaking his head good naturedly at their antics. The younger woman looked very much on the verge of snapping something entirely unfriendly, the entirety of her small frame tightening in the way it always did right before she started off on a tangent. Whatever it was however, her digression was cut off by a sound that struck fear into the very souls of inexperienced criminals everywhere.

Off in the distance, the tell-tale sounds of sirens permeated the air, wafting unwelcomingly to the trio's ears. Valentine swore under her breath. She turned to Jansen, "I thought the alarm was disabled."

"It was, I made sure of it before we came in. The only way the cops could have known is if someone managed to get a call to them."

Liz shook her head, "Couldn't be. The only people who could have known we were here are inside the building. As incompetent as they are, I highly doubt Val's little children would miss someone using a cell phone."

The stared as the former officers features darkened severely, a bitter chuckle escaping her lips as everything suddenly clicked together in her mind, "Oh, I think I know who was kind enough to call our friends." She turned to them, actions suddenly frenzied as the sirens drew closer, "Go out the back, get as far from here as you can. Gordon's men don't have the place surrounded, and they haven't seen you so…you should be alright." She bit her lip, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the statement, "Take some of the children with you. No more then three, or you'll draw to much attention."

Jansen nodded, motioning over three of the more experienced thugs to follow them out the back. He offered Valentine a quick handshake. His affianced gave the younger woman a quick hug before following him.

Stifling the urge to shoot something…or someone, Valentine slid into the Nyx side of her persona, and prepared to calm the apprehensive peons.

* * *

Sky: There we are. A chapter that was considerably more perky then the previous few. Next chappie will be a bit more in the dark veign, however. Now, something to discuss with ya'll. JeanieBeanie33 requested that Val get some humorous type of revenge of Joker. And I think it would be great. After all, their relationship seems to be based on making the others life a living hell…

Joker: (looks up from spiking Valentines drink) So not true…

Valentine: Yeah, we're offended. (pulls the "Kick Me" sigh off Joker's back)

Sky: See what I mean? So, if any of you have an idea for her revenge, I'd love to hear it. Otherwise I'll just have to wing it…and that could end poorly! TILL NEXT TIME!


	16. Chapter 16: Soldier On, My Friends!

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Sky: I have learned the answer to the universe, the meaning of all things, exactly what has been plaguing me, why things have been going as they…

Valentine: GOOD GOD, WOMAN! Would you spit it out already!?

Sky: (Glaring) I was gonna say…I think I have figured out why the reviewers and updaters have been so lax in the past few days, not just on my story but on other very quality works as well. Updates, reviews, all have become…SLOWER! Yes, this horrific event has been caused by an even more terrifying thing…

Joker: Seriously, girl, I'm gonna off you…

Sky: FINE! The reason we've all been missing from the fan fiction scene is because the inscrutable beast that is school has begun anew! ALAS! Whilst I scream and bemoan our wretched fates, all of you that have escaped the nightmarish beasts claws, read on. And mourn your fallen comrades! (whimpers pathetically) On a side note, this chapter's title has nothing to do with actual chapter, but rather, we who have thusly been damned. By school. But no matter how many tentacle-y, nasty things it levels on us, we soldier onwards! AND UPDATE! Sorta. Ish. And just for fun, I threw an Aliens reference into this chapter. I'd like to see how many of you can find it! MUAHA! Now, on that note, ONWARDS!

* * *

**Chapter 16: Soldier On, My Friends!**

"What's your call, Commissioner?"

Gordon turned to the officer, holding up a hand to indicate he ought to wait. The older man finished strapping on his bullet proof vest, then returned his attention to the bank. The place had quieted down an exceptional amount since their arrival, meaning one of two things. Either they were trying to make a quick escape out the back of the building, or someone had managed to take control of the situation and calm things down to a bearable level. Since gunfire wasn't raining down on them through the windows and doors, he was willing to bet it was the latter.

Unfortunately, that also meant anyone in the building was in considerably more danger, as were his officers. It truly was a nuisance when thugs remained well organized…or at least subdued.

He motioned to the officers to form a barricade in front of the large building; at least they would be able to use the makeshift barrier to catch some of the bullets. They nodded dutifully, setting it up with a brisk efficiency.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gordon catch a brief glimpse of Bruce, no, Batman, slinking towards the building, landing with otherworldly ease on the banks roof. He gave the man a small wave before disappearing from sight, inside the building, somewhere near the back.

Again, this served as both a blessing and a curse. He held no doubt that Batman could handle a decent amount of the thugs, perhaps not all of them in the limited confines of the bank, but a decent amount of them. Unfortunately, this also nullified the usefulness of his officers, who would, without a word, fire upon the masked vigilante. The Commissioner let out a loud sigh, stepping towards the structure.

"Sir?" His lieutenant gave him an odd look, wondering why he was stepping towards the bank alone. After what had happened to the last Commissioner, they were under order to keep a watchful eye on him at all times. This time however, he could not afford their concern.

Gordon gave the younger man a friendly smile, the warm, completely sincere expression that had garnered him such fool hearty devotion over the years, "I'm going to see if our friends inside want to negotiate. Stand aside, son."

The man shook his head, "Sorry, sir. I can't let you do that."

Another sigh, "If you hear anything you think is suspicious, I give you full right to come bursting inside. But it's my job to see if there's a peaceful solution to this situation. Now stand down, I'll be perfectly fine."

"Sir, at least take another officer with you."

"Will that make you more comfortable?" The officer nodded vigorously, causing Gordon to smile again, clutching the young mans shoulder in a friendly salute. "Alright," he turned to looked over the assembled officers. He quickly picked out two, "Vasquez, Hudson, you're with me." The two being addressed tromped over to him good naturedly, "Let's see in we can't find a civil resolution to this."

Somehow, he doubted there would be.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Inside was much as he had expected it. Seemingly empty, save for a few squealing hostages. The officers on his tale seemed remarkably unnerved by the situation, Hudson's gaze flicking quickly from place to place, searching, and expecting, an ambush at any given moment.

None emerged however.

Vasquez quirked an eyebrow, switching her gun to her offhand, approaching one of the hostages. The woman squealed as she drew closer, further confusing the woman. She bent, reaching to remove the tape from the girl's mouth….

Gordon swung around as a gun shot was fired. Vasquez collapsed to the ground, obviously shocked that she'd been hit, though it appeared her new injury was far from fatal.

And just like that, all hell burst loose.

The thugs burst forth from their hiding places, gun leveled dangerously at the two officers. The two men exchanged cursory glances before dropping to their knee's, hands held up in surrender, knowing very well that, once that gun shot had been fired, the other officers would be bursting in here. To add to the criminals troubles, Batman too emerged, throwing their ranks into chaos, easily and efficiently disabling the thugs.

One of the men managed to escape the Dark Knight's rampage, staggering over the Commissioner, terror in his eyes. He looked young, perhaps in his mid twenties; the older officer gave him a steadying look, keeping his expression even, trying not to startle the already frazzled boy. Hand shaking, he leveled a gun at Gordon's head, glancing worriedly between his target and the Batman.

Gordon kept his hands held high, unmoving.

Hudson on the other hand, unwilling to allow his superior to be in any danger, dropped a hand to his waist, reaching hastily for his gun, the sudden motion jerking the boys attention away. Without thinking, the boy fired the shot, again not fatal, but definitely painful. The officer groaned in pain and released his hold on the gun, clutching his shoulder where the bullet had made impact.

The Commissioner leaned over in an attempt to assist his companion, only to have the gun flick back to him. If anything the boy looked even more terrified now.

"Michael! What do you think you're doing!?"

A woman emerged from the ranks of the thugs, and, despite the fact that her face was covered with an elaborate owl mask, anger was undulating off her in waves, her disapproval with the boys action evident.

The poor creature gave her a horrified look, never shifting his aim from Gordon's face. The woman took another step forward, "Put the gun down, boy." Her voice seemed eerily familiar to the officer, an echo in the back of his mind. The timbre's were too deep however, a slight inflection where it ought not to have been, a slightly more cynical tone coating each of her clipped words, a thing that made it impossible to place in the middle of the stressful situation. He watched her, curiously. Despite her commands, she seemed just as wary as the terrified boy, kept flicking glances at Batman; the man was making impressive progress towards their location. She was speaking again, more forcefully now, "Put the gun down, now, Michael."

He whimpered, leveling it more accurately at the Commissioners head, hands shaking more fervently, shaking his head pathetically, "I can't Nyx…if I do the Batman will get me…"

Nyx watched him cautiously, hands sliding to her own gun, the thing holstered on her waist, sliding the thing expertly into her hands. Unlike the awkward creature, she evidently did know how to make use of the gun. To Gordon's surprise however, she did not level it at him but, rather, the boy. Another whimper, his fingers sliding to the trigger…

Gordon involuntarily screwed his eyes shut as the gun fired. When he opened them however, it was the boy who lay on the ground, bleeding. The woman's gaze flicked to meet his own, a certain sadness in her gaze. She actually gave him a small, bitter smile, expression softening when it actually landed upon him. "Get out of here, Commissioner, your officers will be more then willing to finish up…."

Hearing the shot however, Batman's attention had settled upon them, and, seeing the woman with a gun, he quickly diverted his course, charging towards them. Her eyes widened in a mixture of terror and regret; she exchanged one more glance with Gordon, the look oddly apologetic, before rushing off, running as quickly as she dared through the chaos.

Batman dashed after her, by far the faster, closing the distance between them rapidly.

It was then the officers emerged into the bank, guns leveled and ready. Nyx having already turned the corner out of sight, all they saw was the Batman, the one that had been so studiously instructed to hunt. Despite Gordon's desperate yells to desist, they fired anyway, bullets whizzing past the caped crusaders form.

Gordon knew Bruce was swearing beneath that mask as he shifted course, launching himself through the nearest window, forced to let the woman go, at least for the time being.

The Commissioner rose, brushing off the concern his officers showered him with, watching as they arrested the remaining thugs. From the looks of it, the woman, Nyx, was the only one who'd managed an escape. Not that it mattered, he could use her peons to discover their base of operations and make an arrest later.

Still, he could not help but feel puzzled as to why she had felt it necessary to leave him.

"Sir?"

He turned to his lieutenant, the young mans features still twisted in worry.

And just like that, he was forced to subdue his own thoughts, the smiling, confident, Police Commissioner rising to the fore once more.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Jansen exchanged an amused glance with his fiancée, their lips twitching up in a rebellious, almost smug, grin, as the sound of a door being slammed rather forcefully shut greeted their ears, this followed by a most indignant little shriek, the sound slightly subdued, as if the originator had attempted to muffle the sound by yelling into another surface.

Right on the heels of her tirade, Valentine stormed into the room, anger and exhaustion showing clearly across the plains of her face, a somber reminder of both her inexperience and the disastrous day . The woman was a royal mess, her rebellious mass of hair a tumble of knots, pieces of debris caught in a few of the strands, her suit having been replaced by a ridiculous pair of street clothes. As icing on the shameful cake, a decent amount of her excessive eyeliner had been smeared, both irritably, and unattractively, over her face. Mixed with the undeniable signs of rage, the entirety of the image translated more into the sphere of a half conscious, still ragged vampire just waking up from a sizable binge, rather then one of the Joker's angry employees. Both the duo curled up on the couch, and the rest of the room, found it difficult not to snicker at such a thing, earning a glare from the irritated creature currently maneuvering through their ranks.

The woman stomped on past them, the entirety of her posture rigged, though whether it was from her initial anger, or shame, was anyone's best guess. Jansen grinned, leaning forward a bit, in a mock show of fascination, "Oooh, where could mommy be headed in such a rush?"

She craned her head, never breaking pace, "To kill daddy."

Out of some semblance of respect, or perhaps, self preservation, the room waited till she was well out of range, then giggled crudely to themselves, apparently having a different translation of her statement. Liz simply shook her head, staring after her now absent friend for a moment before turning her head to give Jansen a perplexed, bemused look with her sharp eyes. She wrapped her arms around his torso, then glanced back up at him, "I'm not sure I'll ever understand the nature of that relationship."

He chuckled, giving her a playful squeeze, "I wouldn't bother trying."

She smiled, staring down the hall her friend had recently exited through, "Masochists."

"You expected different?"

The couple snickered, settling down more comfortably on the couch, the sounds in the room slowing dieing down to nonexistence as everyone took a seat, all waiting for the inevitable shouting match to reach their ears.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Valentine tried to get her temper under control, knowing very well that marching into a verbal match with the Joker's when her thoughts were so addled would only get her a sound, and humiliating, beating. The sincere feeling of betrayal however, refused to be silenced, she winced, much like her boots. Though she'd managed to attain more discreet clothes to facilitate her trip home, she had not been able to replace her footwear. The damn things pounded on the floor with every step she took, the sound echoing distractingly in the narrow corridors of the building. And that made her slightly more irritable.

Without knocking, or calling out for an invitation, she flung the door to his room open wide, if the man hadn't heard all the noise she'd made, he deserved to be terrified, stepping haughtily inside before slamming it shut behind her. Valentine slipped into the traditional angry female pose, rooting her feet in place, fists planted firmly on hips.

Joker looked up from his pacing, a smirk on his face as he took in both her cross façade and her ridiculous get-up. Despite the fact that she'd arrived unannounced, he looked far from frazzled. If anything, his amusement said, quite clearly, that he'd been not so patiently awaiting her arrival. He paused, one brow raised, waiting for her to start her tirade, motioning not so subtly for her to continue.

She was more then happy to oblige, taking an unwise step forward, "I take it you knew I was coming."

He rolled his eyes, giving one of his oily bangs an arrogant flick, "Honey, trust me, even if I hadn't been expecting you, the obscene amount of noise those clodhoppers of yours were making would have clued me off. But you didn't come here to state the obvious, now, did you?"

Some of the resentment she'd managed to repress earlier was slinking out of the corners of her mind and back into the fore, marring her better judgment once more. Her eyes narrowed, "Just curious as to why you felt the need to call the cops on me."

An amused little giggle, "Aw, you didn't enjoy my surprise?"

"Your 'surprise', got half of the peons you assigned to me captured!"

The man stared at her for a second, a blank look on his painted face. This turned up into a smirk, the emotion looking eerily cold when coupled with his narrowed, inhumanly dark, eyes. He pivoted on one foot, strolling back over to his desk, leaning nonchalantly against its surface, head cocked inquisitively to the side, amusement still playing across the planes of his face, "And?"

That caused the woman to pause, confused, "And? Your answer is 'and'? I could have been caught, you arrogant, conniving…"

He rolled his eyes again, holding a hand up to silence her. The woman squared her shoulders, jaw tightening in the arrogant defiance he'd come to expect from her. He'd given up on trying to squash that part of her soul, but it did raise it's ugly head to challenge him on occasion. A trivial, if not irritating, complication. Still, he smiled at her obvious indignation. "I would have broken you out, princess."

"I could have been killed."

His tone became cold, causing the woman to recoil, unused to having it addressed at her, "Then I would have replaced you." The utter, droll, seriousness of the statement left little room for negotiation, daring her to challenge the validity of his assertion.

Valentine let out an aggravated huff, letting out a decent amount of her irrational rage with it, realizing the futility of the argument. Now lacking the fuel of anger, the entirety of her exhaustion settled in; she ran a hand tiredly through her hair, catching knots and tangles in the process, "Your concern for my well being is, as always, touching." She let out another sigh, eying him, "You might be interested to know, that your most beloved Batman was there."

A smirk, the tall man coming off from his perch to step towards her, "Jealous?"

"Angry, handsome. I'm angry."

Joker shrugged easily, "Doesn't matter. Though it's always good to know that Batsy dearest will come out to play when I need him." He was eyeing her cautiously now, sizing up each of her emotions as they came, "Was the Commissioner there?"

"Yes. Since you were kind enough to call him, I expect you already knew that," she looked up at him, still confused, "Since when do you care about Gordon more then Batsy?"

A small chuckled, "Never, princess, never. Batsy just wasn't the focus of my little experiment. I needed to be certain that you'd remain loyal to me and wot not. You understand, eh? I can't exactly have you bursting into hysterical fits of guilt whenever you see our dear Commissioner. It would be bad for business. And then I'd have to shoot you….or something."

"Or something," she smiled softly, "Good to know I can always trust you to tell me like it is."

Joker's expression became uncharacteristically somber, forcing her attention to settle upon him once more, despite her nagging exhaustion. The man's voice had slowed somewhat, allowing her to weigh each of his words, "You can always trust me, angel. I never lie. I might kill you and, in all truth, I probably will, but, rest assured, I will **never** lie to you."

"Then that's all I can ask for, isn't it?" she forced herself to give him a small smile before turning to open the door to her own room, wanting nothing more then to go and sleep. Possibly forget the entirety of the days events, although even her addled mind understood that was an impossibility. Valentine collapsed on her bed with a pleased moan, the soft surface lulling her remaining anger away, soothing her frayed nerves. After the trying events, sleeps was more then willing to come to her, beginning to envelop her in it's comfortably close embrace.

Her companion however, had another idea. The man tromped into her room, plopping inelegantly down beside her, causing the mattress, and her with it, to shift uncomfortably. The small woman glared at him through hazy eyes, ignoring the rather inquisitive look in his eyes. She was not in the mood to answer questions. Apparently though, he was not capable of reading her thoughts, "Hey, angel, wake up."

She whimpered, shoving him away a bit, mouth quirking in annoyance, "What do you want from me, Clown Boy? What more could you possibly want?"

"Darlin', you really don't want to go down that road…."

"As much as your lewd innuendo's flatter me, I am not. In. The. Mood."

He smirked, snuggling into her mattress a bit more, the very idea of which made her groan. The last time he'd been gracious enough to get cozy with her bed was the first day he'd brought her here. She'd spent the next three days attempting to rid both her pillows and comforter of oil and cheap hair dye. He was speaking again, that curious expression of his remaining, "I need to know if you felt anything for Gordon."

"I'm not in love with him, you idiot…."

"You know what I'm talking about, dolt!" He snapped back evenly.

Valentine did know what he'd meant. She just wasn't entirely certain she knew how to explain it. At first she'd felt panic that he might find her out, might be angry that his little protégé had caved so easily. Then panic that the thug might hurt him. But…the idea of following him had never once flirted with her mind. The sincere feeling of guilt that had constantly plagued her had remained absent. And when she'd saved him, the only thing she'd felt was release. Never guilt, perhaps a lingering, slight sense of loyalty, though she knew very well she would never be able to shake that, but never the same blind devotion she'd employed in his company.

She flicked her attention back to the Joker, regarding him with a new sense of pride, "No. I'd didn't fell anything for him."

He smiled, pleased, brushing aside one of her mangled bangs, tucking it behind her ear as he often did. As much as he loved chaos, her renegade hair had ways of annoying him, resulting in the motion. Still, she often got a teasing look on her face whenever he did it, and that usually resulted in another little duel. Tonight though, she was to tired to indulge him, so simply smiled, closing her eyes again. He smacked her cheek lightly, easing her back into the conscious world, "I've got a new plan."

Her words were beginning to slur together, "You gonna tell me about it?"

"Nope, another surprise for you."

At the mention of a surprise of any sort, the woman's eyes snapped open, "I think I've had enough of your surprises for one lifetime…"

"Oh shut up, spoilsport. This is perfectly safe," he grinned, flicking another rouge strand of hair away from her makeup smeared face, "It's what I've needed ya for all along."

"Somehow I remain far from reassured."

He stuck his tongue out at her, "Well that's your problem. Now, get up and go tell the children we're moving. Don't give me that look, even if it wasn't part of the plan we'd have to anyway, courtesy of your foul up at the bank."

She whimpered again, snuggling into the blankets, "Can't I sleep first?"

The man stood, seized the side of the comforter and gave a hard yank, sending the woman tumbling to the floor. She glared up at him, causing him to grin, "You can take that as a no."

Valentine growled to herself, rising with as much grace as possible, turned and opened the door to the hallway, prepared to go and tell the peons as ordered.

Joker watched her go, puzzled, "That's it!? You're just gonna go? Not gonna invoke some horrible feminine revenge on me?"

She smirked, turning to give him a roguish wink, her tone holding an ominous sense of foreboding, "When you least expect it, handsome."

He watched her go, stumbling along in those ridiculous boots he'd assigned to her as joke, never really expecting her to wear them. Out of twisted sense of devotion, she had taken his mock suggestion to heart and, from the looks of it, was paying the penalty for it. How amusing. He continued to watch his confusing little doll a bit longer before turning and returning to his room.

Then he smirked.

* * *

Sky: Take that school, you monstrous beast! I have updated, regardless of you. And one day, one day, I will find a way to free all my favorite writers and reviewers from your treacherous clutches…and…and…and….

Valentine: While Sky starts some crazy rebellion against the established order of things…we're going to thank all of you that were kind enough to review. Not only does Sky love you, we do too.

Joker: Cause it saves us from her craziness for a few minutes.

Valentine: And we desperately need to be saved….

Sky: SO DO MY FAVORITE WRITERS! So, dearest readers, if you do not hear from me for a while, it's because I'm leading a rebellion. Cause that's what I do. Till next time and remember…you should review. Because it saves the characters in this story from going bat-crap crazy. Till next time, loves!


	17. Chapter 17: Odd One Out

Sky: Heh. You know, I was terribly surprised to see how many of you were willing to join my rebellion. Kinda funny actually…

Valentine: Chapter, Sky. Get to the chapter…

Sky: RIGHT! The chapter. Okay, thanks, this chapter goes to the always lovely HughLoverX, for warning me that folks were starting to go OOC. Hopefully the characters are a bit more themselves this chapter. If they aren't….well…I give you full right to form a mob and come after me. I won't resist. But I might lead a rebellion. Cause that's how I roll.

Joker: You have a disease, girl…the chapter….

Sky: RIGHT! Alright…you folks out there, and don't try to hide, I know who you are, asking for more Joker/Valentine relationship-ish development…I'm trying. Unfortunately, Mr. J is a giant pain in the butt, and refuses to go along with my wishes. And when he does, he's horribly out of character. (Face-Palm) Whilst I attempt to solve this problem, read on dear fellow rebellion members, read on!

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**Chapter 17: Odd One Out**

Nothing.

There was, simply, nothing.

Gordon heaved an irritable sigh, massaging the lids of his eyes, trying to channel some of his frustration out before he lashed out against whoever was available. They weren't responsible for this; after all, the man kept reminding himself with a sense of insistence. This was entirely his fault; he'd spent too much time interrogating the thugs; to much time on someone who knew very little. And now they were here at the Joker's former base of opperations.

And there was nothing.

The Commissioner let out another sigh, glancing around the room one final time.

It had been a bedroom from the looks of it, two of them connected together, one elegantly decorated, he assumed this one belonged to the woman he'd encountered at the bank, and the other a painfully simple chamber. This one, this one he knew belonged to no one other then the Joker himself. And, just as he expected, all prints had been removed from the area, anything that could assist the Commissioner in tracking them, or even discovering his new accomplice's identity, had been removed before his arrival. He'd been set up. Again.

The room grew subtly darker in the evening light, a shadow falling across the floor, the owner of the slender silhouette perched easily in the sill of the window, cape billowing elegantly around his figure. "They're already gone. Joker and his troupe cleared out hours ago."

"You know where they went?"

Batman shook his head somberly, "Caught one of his men wandering down by the docks. He wasn't told where they were moving." He stepped into the room, examining the furniture with the same intensity Gordon had moments earlier, looking for any sign that could assist them in the investigation.

Gordon watched him, pondering what he'd just been told. The Joker never did anything unless it was for a reason; the man's plans were always set out perfectly, even detail predicted and carefully accounted for. He also kept his thugs on a chokingly tight leash. Batman never would have caught that thug unless he'd been intended to be caught. Since the man had provided them with no new information, the ploy eluded him. The most likely explanation would be that it had been to provide the other members of the troupe to escape unmolested but…that too failed to stand. Gordon had been here when Batman had apprehended the criminal, and there still had been no sign of the group. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was all nothing more then an elaborate attempt to distract them.

Batman looked up from his work at the sound of heavily booted steps ascending the stairs. Exchanging a glance with the Commissioner, he slipped back out the window. Into the room stepped another officer, a small white envelope clutched in one hand. "Sir, we've found a hostage below, it, appears to be female…"

Genuine worry twisted the older mans features, "Is she alright?"

"Hard to tell with all the blood. She's been all trussed up and…looks like her face's been cut up pretty badly," when his superior didn't respond immediately, the boys tone took on a more insisting, anxious edge, "Sir…she's lost a lot of blood…"

Gordon shook his head, "Don't touch her yet, son. You can never be sure with someone like the Joker."

"Sir…."

"Wait downstairs."

The officer looked struck, unable to understand why the traditionally warm, sympathetic man refused to take immediate action on the girl's behalf. Still, with something of a wounded look on his face, he nodded, leaving the room and descending the stairs once more.

Alone, the Commissioner returned his attention to the envelope in his hand. It was a plain, simple thing, nothing adorning its cover but his name, hastily and lazily scrawled, on the top half. Gently, so as not to disturb whatever happened to be inside, he tore the top. Only a single piece of paper greeted him. The same loose, childishly inelegant writing had been used to address the letter. It read, simply,

_Dearest Co-Missioner Gordon, _

_Nyx and I are very sorry we weren't able to entertain you and your friends. Chaos calls you know. And she is not a kindly mistress. Next time try and be more punctual._

_Always yours, _

_The Joker._

_P.S: Don't touch my hostage. _

Gordon growled to himself, outraged at the man's unending cockiness.

"What's it say?"

He shook his head, handing the note to the newly reappeared Batman, brushing a hand through his hair, trying to soothe his frayed nerved. Barbara, he tried to think of Barbara and James; his family always served to calm him.

Batman shook his head, tucking the note in his pocket for tests later. "Stay on the lookout, Joker isn't going to keep him profile low long."

He sighed, tiredly,"One rarely has to look far once he's decided to step out of anonymity." That was, perhaps, the felons greatest, and worst, facet; despite their best efforts, finding him before he rought havoc upon others was next to impossible.

Batman nodded gravely, looking around the room once more, "They couldn't have gone far; finish here, I'll give the area another quick scan."

"What should we do abou the hostage?"

"Exactly what the Joker said. Don't touch her."

The Commissioner's face fell somewhat, "She'll die if we don't get her medical aid."

"It's a casualty you have to except." The man stepped out of the window once more, not waiting for the mans response. And inside, Gordon did know he was right. His conscience on the other hand, did not. The older police officer decended the stairs to meet the rest of his force, these having gathered, awaiting his return, a shared look of worry plaguing their features. He knew very well what they were waiting for; a call for the hostage had to be made.

Gordon crossed to where the girl lay, her hands and feet bound together painfully tight, the ropes cutting into the skin. Hair was matted to the sides of her head, angry, deep gashes adorning both sides of her mouth, a mockery of the Joker's own scars. The poor thing stared up and him, eyes terrified, full of hope that perhaps he would deliever her from the wretchedness of the situation. His heart twisted painfully in his chest.

He screwed his eyes shut, then turned slightly, levelling the men behind him with a glance. He rose, passing them, a forlorn expression on his face. The girl was going to die if they left her any longer. "Get her hands untied," he ordered, stepping towards the door, ignoring both the Batman and Joker's original warnings to follow his own moral compass. The officers smiled, relieved, quickly going to the girls side. The sound of a pocket knife unfolding reached his ear, followed by the sounds of the ropes snapping away.

Then he was thrown forward, the room exploding in a burst of flame and blinding light.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

As a child, Valentine had, as all children, been constantly warned by her poor mother, the frazzled creature attempting to impart some wisdom upon the hard-headed little beast, to beware of being overly curious. The old adage, "Curiosity killed the cat," became something of a permanent fixture in her young life.

Not that she ever really learned from it.

The equally hard headed, albeit, now slightly taller, woman, remained as curious as she had once been, the insatiable emotion cheekily dragging her along, forcing her to give voice to an innumerable amount of idiotic inquiries. At the moment, she was caught in one of these very inquiries, her innate need to know everything overpowering her sense of reason. Eyes bright, brow quirked and the entirety of her face twisted into a mask of obvious confusion, Valentine prodded her companion for the answers she so ardently needed to sate her curiosity, shrieking after the tall creature in front of her by at least three strides.

"Can you at least tell me where we are going?"

The poor little things eyes widened in dread as the man in front of her swung around, his elegant limbs swinging lightly at his waist as he shuffled back to level her with a stare, lips turned up in a dangerous smile. Despite her insistence that the man establish some form of dental hygiene, Joker's teeth remained just as yellow as before, this time slightly smeared with the ever present crimson lipstick. Sporting the same feigned smile, he reached out a gloved hand to tap her lightly on the nose, this sliding to rest lightly beneath her chin, holding her fixed in place. "Would you like to know where you're going if you keep asking me questions, princess?" He used his free hand to retrieve a knife, brandishing the cruel looking instrument in front of her eyes as a warning.

She smirked, "You did say something about introducing me to your friends when we first met…"

The man cackled, not at all good naturedly, allowing the knife to rest against her collar blade easily, never pressing hard enough to even knick her. They were both well aware that, at least at this point in time, he had no intention of harming her. He stepped back, offering her an over-exaggerated bow, "And I'm a man of my word…."

A snicker from behind the duo interrupted whatever line of conversation they were intent on continuing down, replacing their quasi-friendly banter with hastily erected guards. Liz and Jansen, both sporting poorly disguised smirks, strode forward; giving both of them amused little looks. The woman detached herself from her affianced, coming to wrap her arms around her friends waist as she often did, snuggling her head on the smaller woman's shoulder. "You guys are cute…"

Valentine gave her friend a terrified look, gaze darting from the slightly more rigid Joker's figure and back to the other woman's smiling visage. "You're kidding, right?"

She snickered, rolling her eyes, glancing to her fiancee, "What's your bet, honey? Playing coy or just plain incompetant?"

Jansen crossed to stand beside her, an even larger grin coloring his features, gaze flicking back and forth between the two individuals in question. "I'm going to go with incompetant…"

The Joker looked rather annoyed by the turn this conversation was taking, expression becoming a sneer, "Your friends are annoying me, angel. Methinks I shall shoot them…."

"Joker, you can't shoot them. It wouldn't be right."

The man gave her a disbelieving look, momentarily ceasing his search for a weapon of any kind, "Do you even know me?"

She rolled her eyes, "Let me finish," he motioned for her to continue. In return the woman detangled herself from Liz's deathly tight embrace, opting instead to stand beside her superior, wrapping an arm around his, "It wouldn't be right. They're my friends. I should get to shoot them." Both friends in question looked considerably more nervous.

"I'm not going to argue with your claim…but, I'm the one who gets to shoot them…"

Valentine let out a long sigh, "I call for a truce. You shoot Jansen, I'll shoot Liz."

He cackled, "Since when do I negogiate?"

"Fine. You can kill them both," he grinned truimphantly, "Once we get to your super secret new base."

He considered this, cocking his excentric head idly to the side. Then he nodded jovially, clasping her shoulders, "Deal."

And this time, they were the ones cackling, completely pleased with themselves and the looks of horror that had cropped up on the other couples face. Had they looked behind them though, instead of striding truimphantly towards their new destination, they may have caught the conspiritory wink Liz flicked towards her fiancee.

* * *

Sky: OKAY! I admit it. I was lazy. This should have been out sooner and I'm still not pleased with this chapter. This was supposed to be at least 1,000 words longer if not more. But…I'm going through writer's block. And hopefully this will help alieviate the dreaded thing. Once again, thanks to all of you that were good enough to review! YOU GUYS ROCK! Till next time, dear readers.


	18. Chapter 18: Joker's Wild

Sky: THAZ IT! I'm fighting through the block, Joker style. In other words, I used no chapter map for this little piece of fiction. Thusly, I take no responsibility for anything that happens in this chapter. Cause I didn't know it would happen when I started…

Valentine: That seems like an excuse…

Sky: It _is_ an excuse. NO RESPONSIBILITY! Heh. Hopefully Joker is in character…cause it's mostly about him. And thank you to all you lovely reviewers, who were kind enough to help me fight through and get this out there! This is dedicated to ya'll, cliché chapter title and all! Now, onwards!

* * *

**Chapter 18: Joker's Wild**

Valentine exchanged a curious look with her companion as he veered off the main road, dragging her down an alley and inside a buildings back door. It opened into what looked like a restaurants kitchen; this too, he maneuvered them through artfully till they stood in the main dining room. They were, indeed, inside a restaurant, run down as it seemed. From the impressive amount of shelves and seating available at the counters, she was willing to bet it had previously been used as a bar. She raised a brow, "Why are we in a bar?"

He smiled, retrieving his arm from her grasp, striding triumphantly to the center of the room, arms held out wide in a grand, sweeping gesture, "My princess, welcome to our. New. Home. I am going to reintroduce you to Gotham in style."

The former officer shot a cursory glance at her two other friends, who shrugged unknowingly, in response, settling down to watch the ensuing show at the counter. The small woman grinned at the wide smile coloring her partners face, "Your plan I take it?"

He nodded. "It's perfect. You can set this place up as your own little club, join Gotham's upper class, and all the officials will come here for drinks…"

Her brow was arched in suspicion again, knowing full well that he would never offer hers such a plush position if it was not going to aid him…or tie more strings around her arms for later use, "Surely you get something out of this?"

"Access to their DNA from glasses, granting me access to their files, bank accounts and family," he grinned extending his hand to her in invitation as he settled down on one of the stools. She took it, allowing him to settle her down on his lap, the two of them staring out over the establishment. She leaned her head against his, letting out a tired sigh. The place needed a lot of work: a new paintjob, new chairs, a staff, new floor in certain location, alcohol. Turning it into a lush, upper-class establishment was going to take a lot of work and even more sleepless nights on her part. But the notion was intriguing, and, all things considered, his gift flattered her immensely. He nudged her head lightly with his own, smiling up her, "Whatdaya say, princess?"

She smirked, looking at the trashed place again, "Can I really tell you no?"

He chuckled, "Never, angel."

They ignored the rude chuckles emitting from Liz and Jansen. He favored them with a dark glare, "Wasn't I supposed to shoot them?"

"It can wait."

He smirked, obviously pleased that she had chosen to say it could "wait" rather then reprimanding him, or arguing with him to stop. She was picking up on things. Besides, he needed Liz for the next part of his little plan. He shifted Valentine on his lap, moving so the entirety of her weight wasn't bearing down on one leg. She gave him a smug grin, but refused to comment. He rolled his eyes, and then flicked his gaze back to the other couple. Jansen, the giant oaf, had an oversized grin on his face, his fiancée, on the other hand, looked remarkably suspicious now, some of her mirth dying away.

"Joker," that was Valentine, the tiny woman tapping him obnoxiously on the forehead to catch his attention. He caught up her hand, giving it a warning squeeze, a silent order to cease and desist playing cute. In a mocking imitation of his earlier expression, she rolled her eyes, "I was wondering how you are going to keep Gordon from connecting the dots and discovering my identity. He hasn't heard from me in a while and if I just show up, so soon after we've unveiled Nyx, he'll get suspicious."

"It's covered, doll face. Jansen here will drive you out of town. In your absence, we'll have Liz don your suit and play at being Nyx so no one can connect the two of you. In a few days, you can fly back and no one will be the wiser."

She paused, thinking it through. Then she smiled, "That's actually an intelligent idea. And I can plan to redecorate the place while I'm gone…"

"Told you you'd love my gift." He slid her off his lap, rising to brush the wrinkles out of his trench coat, going to leave.

Valentine stared after him, surprised that he was going to leave them so quickly, "Where are you going?"

He waved her comment off, "You're going to need funds of course…and Gordon's peons need to be thinned a bit," he turned to Liz, giving her a commanding look, "Get ready, you're coming with me later."

The three remaining figures watched him go, shaking their heads. Jansen too, rose to go, explaining that he would need to prepare for the drive out of town, asking the former officer to be ready to go in an hour or two. Both women exchanged cursory glances, left alone now in the large room.

Valentine stared after the Joker's departed form before glancing towards her friend, holding her arms out in invitation. Smiling, Liz came, giving the younger woman a sisterly hug, sitting down beside her on the floor. They were silent for a moment, both still digesting the new plan. The officer turned to her companion, concern written on her features, "You're going to be careful right?"

A little snort, "Are you actually worried for me?"

"Of course I'm worried for you, stupid!"

The older woman laughed, giving her friend a small squeeze, "Then I'll be careful." The air was silent again, an uncomfortable awkwardness hanging between them. Liz rolled her eyes, pulling away a bit to settle a judgmental gaze on her, "Go ahead, you can say it."

Valentine smiled, "You won't mind?"

"I'd rather do it for you then out of necessity, honey."

She pulled her friend back into a tight hug, thankful relief crossing her features, "Then…would you be a dear and watch Joker for me?"

Both girls shared a small giggle.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

The camera panned on Joker, the shot shaky and unprofessional, a striking parody of a bad college horror film. The man's face was turned up in a macabre grin, crimson lipstick smeared lazily across the planes of his cheeks, striking a salient contrast with the starkly white paint and the blackness surrounding them, perked high on one of Gotham's many sky scrapers.

The man cackled, the high, maniacal sound filling the former silence of the night, sloppily dyed hair and trench coat tail blowing in the wind, hand clasped neatly around a young woman's neck. The girl wailed clutching his arm feebly as he held her out over the ledge, giggling again those assembled below the spectacle all caught their breath. Screams, both from the hostages on the roof with them, and from the crowd below, let out screams of their own, pointing in terror, but never moving to stop him.

Joker smiled, turning to the camera, "I love this town."

Liz, disguised now as Nyx, rounded on him irritably, loading another clip into her handgun, "Would you hurry up? We can't hold the officers off all night." She fired again as an unfortunate would-be savior edged the door open once more. It slammed shut just as quickly.

The villain rolled his eyes, giving the girl a warning shake as she attempted to wriggle her way back to solid footing. She wailed again as he briefly released her, plummeting a bit before he caught the fabric of her shirt and drew her back. Sobbing, she ceased her attempts at escape, makeup smearing her little face. He cackled again, fear inspiring him, feeding him.

"Let her go!" Someone declared. Joker's face contorted in confusion, not used to being so openly defied, or ordered to do anything. He pivoted a bit, keeping his hostage dangling dangerously over the edge of the building. His gaze settled upon a shaking young man; the sniveling boy stepped forward, head held arrogantly high as he approached the terrorist. "Let her go," he repeated, voice cracking uncertainly this time. Joker waved Liz aside, amused by the boy's spine. He was speaking again, "You….you're a coward. Only attacking girls. T…too scared to come after a real m…man….?"

"Hey, I'm not sexist," he motioned to Liz, who grabbed the boys shoulder and tossed him gracelessly off the edge of the building, the screaming little creature disappearing from their vision as he plummeted towards the ground. Another little cackle, the screams of the gathered crowd below informing them that the brave young man had landed, perhaps not in the most pleasant fashion. He flicked his gaze back to the other whimpering hostages, "Any other gentlemen among you?" They shook their heads vigorously, taking a submissive step back, inciting another giggle. He could feel Liz rolling her eyes as she returned to her post at the door.

"You, come here, look here," he motioned to the camera man, "Good, good, right there." He brushed an oily strand of hair back, away from his face, tongue flicking out to lap at the excessive makeup, its acrid taste filling his mouth. "Greetings, good citizens of Gotham. If I could interrupt your evening with a friendly little message. You. Are. All. Going. To Die." Another soul piercing cackle, the sound inciting another shriek from the girl, "Like this girl here. You see? See this girl? She's going to die. Like you; one of you, stinking, wretched, bloated, cowards will die every night, until the Batman comes out to play with me…"

As if on cue, the familiar, angular shadow appeared within his troupe's ranks, throwing the inexperienced, and terror stricken thugs, into chaos, scattering like frightened ants. Joker rolled his eyes again, shaking his head before smiling again, turning to great the new figure. Batman was striding towards his, posture set and rigid, easily batting aside any of the thugs dumb enough to cross him. Liz came to stand beside him, the same terror in her eyes as the lesser members of their troupe. She gave Joker's arm a warning squeeze, imploring that they run; he used his fear 

hand to squeeze back, the force of the motion grinding the bones in her hand painfully together, before giving her a rough shove, sending the slender woman stumbling to the ground.

Joker grinned as his archnemisis came closer yet, giving his head a friendly toss, "You have impeccable timing you know."

"Let the girl go, Joker," Gotham's Dark Knight snarled, voice as rough and gritty as the Joker fondly remembered it. It pleased him to know that the respite in their combative relationship had not ebbed the hero's disgust for him.

He rolled his eyes again, "As you wish. But remember, you asked for this," he released his hold on the girl, sending the screaming young thing hurtling towards the cement below, going to meet her former defender in a shattered little heap. The hero lunged forward a bit, but cut the motion short, realizing he would never catch the young woman before she connected with the ground. Joker shrugged, the motion light and amused, hands held up in feigned innocence as Batman's dark glare found its way to his figure, "You really should learn to choose your words more carefully."

The hero lunged forward, seizing the far more slender mans wrist, twisting it painfully before sending him sprawling to the ground. As in their previous encounters, instead of screaming in pain, or even acknowledging it, the man laughed, his grotesquely painted face looking even more preternaturally disturbing in the low light. "I'm…_surprised_ you didn't jump for her." He was wrenched up by his collar, slammed into the steel girder, briefly winding him, "A hero of condition are we? Not your childhood sweetheart so she didn't deserve to be saved?" Another shake, another bitter giggle, "And to think, Gotham's children look up to you!"

"Better me then a freak like you!"

"So touchy! So touchy! Hit a sore spot, did I, Batsy? Afraid you might sink to my level?" A cruel laugh, the Joker leveling his face dangerously close to his nemesis disgusted head. "Letting an innocent girl plummet to her death? You don't have far to go, Batsy. Not far at all."

Then he was airborne, launched by the far stronger, and immensely irritable, hero. Joker skidded to a stop, staring ridiculously up at the other figure from beneath the mangled locks now hanging dirtily in his face, "Nice to see you're as civil as ever. Ow." He brushed dirt from his suit, awkwardly rising to his feet before the Batman could get his hands around his neck again. Oh, he had no doubt the hero would refrain from actually killing him, but he had no intention of allowing himself to get uselessly brutalized. With the same otherworldly speed that had saved him thousands of times before, he narrowly sidestepped the left hook aimed squarely at his head, swinging his own arm out in return. It connected lightly with the other mans shoulder, not hard enough to break bone, or even bruise, but enough to send the already off balance man stumbling forward.

To his chagrin, Liz had managed to collect herself, rushing towards the staggering Knight, arms extended in front of her. With as much energy as she could muster, the woman shoved against his back, the force enough to send him over the ledge. He'd catch himself before he hit the ground, they both knew that.

Joker approached the panting woman, rolling his eyes before staring after his departed enemy. He hadn't been done playing yet; not quite. He pouted, the expression looking horribly ridiculous.

Liz, now sporting a garish, multi-colored and angry looking, bruise, turned her own furious glare upon him, tearing away her mask and using it to beat his arm, "What were you thinking!? Valentine told me to keep you safe and the first thing you do is…"

He backhanded her across the face, the blow leaving a strikingly crimson line across her cheek. The woman staggered backwards, falling gracelessly on her rump, shocked, though she knew better then to be. Clutching her face with one hand, she glared back at him with more anger. He crossed to her, sliding two fingers underneath the high collar of the cat suit to drag her back on her feet, no trace of remorse crossing his features. Lips set in a thin line, she snapped something off she instantly regretted, "Are you hitting me because I challenged you? Or because I'm not your precious little dolly?"

Anger, irrational, crossed the planes of his odd face, hand lashing out to connect with her other cheek. This time though, she refused to fall. There was something in her tone though…something odd he, familiar, that he couldn't place, buried beneath her anger, another emotion; veiled, but there. She grinned, "No, you never would hit her, would you? Do you see yourself in her?" Another strike; another muffled whimper. "Some pathetic attempt to retain a shred of your previous humanity?"

He laughed coldly, tossing her aside. The cement connected painfully with her already bruised knees, he leveled his face down next to hers, "I. Have. No. Soul, pretty, little, child."

"That why you drug her down with you? A friend to burn in hell with? Or someone to fight for your lost soul while she finds her own?" He watched her, curious as to what had brought this on. Her anger alone would never have motivated such a sincere reaction. Unless it had boiled just beneath the surface for a while now, stewing, stinking, poisoning the woman's thought. Anger mixed with a sincere worry. She was terrified he noted, the weak emotion dancing around the corners of her eyes, masked beneath the more tell tale signs of rage. Not for herself, or her own well being, but for her friend; her questions had not been asked out of anger, or jealously, but rather, desperation. Liz was afraid for Valentine, and what he could do to her. That he might corrupt, or worse, break, her friend. The sheer, selfless humanity of the gesture would have moved any other man to pity.

But the Joker was not any other man. And he had no room for pity. And he had no room for a soul.

She was staring up at him again; her green eyes filled with tears and pain, clutching her chest protectively, watching the lithe man cautiously, "Do you care for her?"

He stared at her right back, mouth curled back in a sneer, "No."

"Prove it. Prove you don't care for her."

The sneer became a full smile, the man ducking his head in a cruelly ironic parody of appeasal, "Your death would pain Valentine greatly, wouldn't it?" He licked his scars, the taste now more bitter, blood having pooled around the corners of his mouth, courtesy of his brief bout with the Batman. Reaching into his coat, he withdrew his own handgun, admiring the truly pretty thing in the low light. Guns, as a whole, disgusted him; far too quick, far too impersonal. The idea of staining his precious friends with this sniveling creature's blood revolted him however; the task was far more suited to this crude tool. He leveled the barrel at the defiant woman's head, waiting for her to duck her head away. Liz continued to stare back at him, some deluded sense of morality filling her head with a pointless illusion of safety; the girl seriously overestimating his concern for her friend. He pulled the trigger.

Rather then the familiar loud bang, no sound came. A flag extended out of the gun, one word written on the white sheet, expressing the sound that should have emitted from the barrel. Printed in big, red letters was the word "bang." He grinned; Val had promised to take her revenge when he least expected it. Amused, he flicked his gaze to the still kneeling woman, giggling, holding the gun out to her. An expression of full-bodied relief crossed her features. Grinning, he extended his hand to the slender woman, pulling her gently to her feet.

She smiled, giggling a little at the ridiculous gag gun before turning away, preparing to exit the building through the door, "I knew you cared for her."

Another cold cackle met her ears. Her head was jerked forcefully back, the Joker's hand fisted painfully in her hair, giving another yank to leave her the column of her neck exposed. With a cruel snicker, he slid a knife across the delicate flesh, the thin cut staining her skin a fetching color of crimson, the blossoming thing coloring her borrowed cat suit. The irony that she was impersonating the woman she'd insisted he'd cared for did not escape the calculating mans attention, and the idea made him laugh. He brushed his lips against her cheek, dragging them across the welts his hand had left on her tawny skin, till they reached her ear. He leaned his head against hers, voice dipping to nothing more then a velvety purr, "Goodnight, beautiful girl."

He allowed the woman to collapse to the floor, wide eyed and whimpering with her dying breaths, staring after the departing mans lithe form. Uttering a tiny prayer for her friend, Liz closed her eyes.

And used her last breath to curse the wretched man who would just as quickly damn her.

* * *

Sky: So, I decided to do this chapter without a plan. And…uh…I am remarkably pleased with the result. And it came to me easily! Which means the writers block is gone, at least for now! Woohoo for the Joker approach to writing stuff!

Valentine: (Eye twitching/rather pissed) Lesson learned. Sky improvises and innocent characters get offed. MY ONLY HOMIE IS GOOOOOONNNE!

Joker: Hey…the way I offed Liz…isn't that my fatality move in Mortal Kombat Vs. DC Universe?

Sky: Almost. Except in that, after they sigh in relief you pull out another gun and blow their heads off. No throat cutting. And in all truth, I didn't mean for Liz to die. In fact…she was supposed to get married and have a kid and be a stabilizing figure in the madness. Whoops. But the repercussions could be interesting! Maybe Val will grow a back bone! Oh, and Val's briefly explained semi (Don't worry, I'll give her something better later) revenge, was inspired by Brynnie-Chan124 and the new Mortal Kombat game. Which looks totally sweet! Until next time, dearest readers and fellow rebellioners!


	19. Chapter 19: Welcome Home

Sky: (slinks in) Okay…everyone, I realize I've been gone for a while. But I'm back. And to make it up to you, I'm going to give you a reasonably long chapter. And hopefully a quick update after that. I'm on vacation for the week so I've got time to write. SO DON'T COME AFTER ME WITH TORCHES AND PITCH FORKS!

Valentine: Does that mean I have to disband the mob?

Sky: (Pause) No. Keep them for the next time I get lazy. Now, onwards to the much belated chapter! ONWARDS!

* * *

**Chapter 19: Welcome Home**

Valentine stood in the open doorway of the house. It didn't appear to be any different then the rest of the houses on the street but…for some reason this place seemed familiar. She knew it was hers, somehow, though she had never stumbled upon this place before. Tensing, uncomfortable with this sudden familiarity, the officers hand immediately dropped to the holster on her hip. It was empty, the gun missing, leaving her hand fumbling clumsily with the leather fastenings. Still, despite her discontent, as if by some supernatural force, she felt compelled to continue inside.

She felt awkward, like an intruder, unwelcome here though it seemed this place was her own home. Stepping lightly, she emerged into what appeared to be the living area. The television was on, one lone figure huddled in front of it, knees tucked securely to its chest. The being was small; a child from the looks of it. Not wanting to scare the little creature, Valentine advanced slowly, steps measured and silent. For a moment, she stood quietly behind the couch, simply watching the child with a mix of wildly irrational apprehension and confusion.

She didn't need the various picture on the coffee tables to tell her who the child belonged to. Didn't need to see the seemingly doctored photo's of herself, smiling, arms wrapped protectively around the little figures shoulders to know it was her son. Her face twisted in an odd sort of confusion as she closed the gap between them, brushing her fingers lightly across the boys bare shoulders.

He turned, a huge grin gracing his youthful face, illuminating it in the way only an innocent creature can manage. He was young, perhaps four, but no older then that, with blue eyes and a mass of uncontrollable, muddy blond hair, the little curls falling around his ears. And there was joy. So much joy on that tiny face of his, trusting and beautiful. He smiled at her, throwing his arms around her waist, giggling.

"Welcome home, Mommy."

The corners of her mouth turned up involuntarily in a smile and, almost on instinct, she brushed her fingers through his hair.

And she was very aware of the door closing behind her. Very aware of that familiar light step, nearly plodding, but so light and otherworldly it had a grace all of its own, as it came closer. Very aware of that familiar, garish, gas glow face as it stepped grinning into her line of sight. On the same instinct as before, she clutched the boy to her torso tighter, glaring at the newcomers eternally grinning façade, hanging on to her son for dear life. He would not touch him. She would not let him touch her son.

But, the boy turned in her arms, brushing her embrace easily aside, her arms suddenly drained of strength. And then there was terror in the back of her mind; only terror as the boy laughed and launched himself at the madman. She stood rooted in place, weak, helpless, and on the verge of tears, knowing full well how this would end. The Joker's only goal in life was amusement, was chaos. He thrived on the fear, thrived on others pain, and she knew, she _knew_, he wouldn't hesitate, wouldn't think twice, about maiming her son if it resulted in either of those emotions.

The boy giggled as Joker gathered him up into his arms. He continued giggling as the man drew one of his goddamned knifes out of his pockets. Kept laughing as he settled it near the corners of his mouth. He seemed to enjoy it, his tiny arms wrapped trustingly around the lunatics neck, placing a delicate kiss on his painted cheek, smiling the same trusting, beautiful smile he had favored Valentine with moments before.

She wanted to scream. Wanted to hit him. Wanted to do something to stop the bastard from touching her son. But she remained rooted in place, helpless. Always so helpless. The Joker favored her with a wicked grin, leering at her as he oft did, teasing her, taunting her, as he brushed the knife closer and closer to the boys still smiling face.

And then his grin grew wider, and his head was thrown back in a howling laugh, one that actually terrified her. The knife he had previously been toying with was suddenly back in her sons mouth, tearing the young flesh into a horrid mimicry of the lanky killers own expression.

Valentines own cries of anguish mixed perfectly with those of her sons; mixed perfectly with the Joker's howling, supernatural laughter as the officer collapsed to her knees, as the boy went limp in his arms.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

She awoke with a muffled cry, sitting bolt upright in bed. It had been a dream, she whispered fiercely to herself. Just a dream. The silly pandering of a delusional, overtired mind. This seemed to calm her a bit, and finally her breath seemed to even out, no longer come as tear wracked half sobs.

_Just a dream. _

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, whimpering a little. Her limbs still felt weak from the nightmare. Still, she forced herself to rise, stumbling into the bathroom where she splashed water on her face, washing away some of the sweat, pushing her mattered hair away from her face.

_Just a dream. _

She chalked it up to anxiety. She been away from Gotham for two weeks now, her plane back was due to leave in the morning. Yeah, that was it. Anxiety.

The truth was her sleep had been fitful long before tonight. It had been uneasy for her ever since Gordon had assigned her the Joker's case and that lunatic had entered her life. She ran her fingers through her hair again, trying to rid her mind of the dreams images.

It had been worse this time though; this one had been vivid enough to blur the line of reality. This was one had actually frightened her. She tried closing her eyes again, only to see the now horribly mutilated face of her young son. Only to see the Joker's horrible head thrown back in a triumphant laugh.

_Just a dream. _

Valentine whispered that to herself over and over again as she made her way back to the hotel bed.

No more of dreams plagued her that night, and when she awoke again in the morning, the traumatic experience of the previous night was nothing more then a blur.

By the time she was on the plane, she had forgotten entirely.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

"Such a shame…"

He hung his head in mock lamentation, tone taking on a mocking, grieved sound. Almost as if this amused him. Almost as if his game was really about to begin.

And what a game it would be. He wanted to cackle to himself, wanted to throw his head back in laughter, let the world know just how _happy_ he was.

But that would ruin the surprise now, wouldn't it? And that just wouldn't. Be. Acceptable.

He was half whimpering again, dancing fitfully from foot to foot, like an overgrown child that's been told to wait to open that present it's been promised. He pouted a bit, crossed his arms fitfully and settled down to wait. As distasteful as he fond the prospect of waiting, it was required. He needed it, if he was to get Batsy to come and play again.

Yes, the damned bat had been escaping him again. Hell, he'd even venture to say Gotham's own Dark Knight was toying with him. Always coming to the bait, always ready to fight, always so very, very angry.

Yes, Batsy was _always_ angry.

But the idiot never seemed able to close. The. Deal. They were stalled, trapped, caught, in this silly stalemate. And Joker was getting bored with the game. He was going to up the ante, that's what he was going to do. And then, then Batsy would either have to call him on the bet, forced to play the heightened form of their old game, or simply bow out.

Batsy never bowed out.

And this fact caused a small chuckle to escape his painted lips, regardless of his previous desire to prevent such a traitorous emotion. Silent. He needed to be silent, just for another few minutes.

A small ding went off behind him. That was what he had been waiting for, the signal; the signal! This time he allowed himself to giggle, rubbing his gloved hands together ecstatically. Time for his gift! Time for the new game. To. Start. He stepped out of the alley and onto the main street.

The morning rush was in full swing as civilians from all walks of life attempted to get to work on time. The result was nothing more then a massive pileup, hundreds of cars stacked together, unmoving. Somewhere an idiot was honking his horn, as if this irritable display might hurry on the grind. It wouldn't. Everyone had ground to a near stop.

All the better for him.

He allowed himself to grin as he marched cheerfully amongst them, taking a sick sense of delight as their faces convulsed in unveiled terror, as women screamed, as men paled, as they all eluded the same sickly sweet smelling aroma that followed on fears heels.

There was nothing like it in the morning.

His arms in the air, it seemed as though he was conducting some strange, frenetic orchestra, waving an invisible baton to an invisible band, to the imaginary music in his head. And then, as he threw both arms wildly above his head, the car behind him exploded.

The Clown Prince of Crime didn't bother to contain his glee, his horribly disfigured face twisted into a painfully hideous mimicry of pleasure. The flaming vehicle flew straight up in the air, illuminating the cool morning before coming crashing back to earth with a loud bang, barrel rolling over another few cars. The screams reached his ears. The pure, horror filled screams.

They fed him; urged him on. He kept walking, skipping even, to the chaotic rhythm of his very own orchestra. They played fear. They played chaos. And they played so. Very. well.

He threw his arms up again and another two cars exploded, shooting into the air as before, the flaming projectiles an odd , but perfect, siren song to the cities knight. He couldn't resist it, he wouldn't resist it. Like the heroes in Greek Mythology, he just couldn't resist that song.

And like that song, it would lead him to his end. Or, at least, the Joker thought with a ethereal cackle, lead him to break his last tenant. He would break. They always broke.

Another three cars were sent flying into the air, leaving the highway a horrible mess; even if he left, no one would be getting through here any time soon. Another two cars.

The song was coming to its long awaited crescendo. All he needed was the other player in the game.

And then the idiot hero came swinging down from one of the buildings, his black cape billowing imposingly behind him. That was what linked them; the fear. They both used the same fear.

The Dark Knight connected painfully with Joker's lanky frame, sending him hurtling into one of the stopped cars. The woman inside screamed; he simply laughed. Laughed as the hero charged him. Laughed as one of Batsy's toys cut through the fabric of his suit to connect with his ribs, leaving a harsh, ragged gash across the exposed flesh.

Like one of his knifes.

Jokers smiled coldly, brushing a finger across his new wound, bringing it back in front of his face bloodstained. There was fear there, beneath that calm, masked exterior. He could sense it, smell it, amongst the chaos. Without a thought he wiped the damp finger across his jacket, a sneer gracing his odd face.

How he loved his Batsy.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Valentine stepped out of the plane, suddenly extremely grateful to be back on solid ground. She'd never much been fond of flying, and this recent trip had reminded her why. Because, if something happened to that plane, if some god awful thing was occurring, she could do nothing. It only reminded her of how helpless she could really be. And she hated that feeling, no matter how often it had occurred recently.

But, other then her relief to be back on solid ground, she realized she was thankful to be back in Gotham. However irrational it sounded, she had missed her friends. And she had missed the Joker, no matter what her subconscious seemed bent on telling her. Two weeks away from the motley troupe had been a tad to long for her liking and, since Jansen had left after she'd been safely out of the city, it had been a lonely escapade. She had been able to supervise and administer most of the major remodels to the club from afar though, so the place was due to open in a week.

That was, in fact, the crux of her cover story. That she'd disappeared from the city for a while because she had left, in fear for life, what, with the Joker being free and all that. No one would blame her for taking off suddenly and without a word. And with Liz playing Nyx for the duration of her absence, there was no way to connect herself with the villain. Her return was also simple. She had, of course, missed the city, but had only returned to Gotham to oversee the opening of her new nightclub.

It sounded slightly hollow, even to ears, but she doubted most people would care enough to poke holes in her story.

She readjusted her carry on bag, passed security and headed towards the exit. She was tired. She had jet lag, and she really wanted to go home and take a nap.

Fate, it seemed, had another idea.

"Valentine!"

She stopped at the sound of her name, spine stiffening to near ram rod straight as she caught wind of her name, this spoken in an overly familiar voice. The voice she'd attempted to dull out of her memories the past month.

"Valentine, is that you?"

The ex-officer braced herself, put on her most winning smile, and turned to face the man addressing her. Commissioner Gordon was rushing towards her, smiling, oh god, he was smiling. He was happy to see her, and all she could conjure was this sickening sense of dread.

She hated that.

"Gordon!" She actually held her hand out for him to shake. He accepted it warmly, pumping her arm up and down in the friendly, familiar motion. It made her uncomfortable, traitorous even.

She hated that even more.

But he remained smiling, clearly relieved that she was, in fact, still alive. That the Joker hadn't found her, that she wasn't floating face down in the river. That too, made her feel guilty. She should have left a note or something. Just a little something that would have alleviated some of his fears.

It felt ridiculous, making small talk with him after all that had happened. The last time they had met was in the bank, where she had saved his life. But not because she was on his side; simply out of a sense of guilt. She had shot her own companion, one of her own employee's, in order to preserve him. The irony ran deep indeed.

He asked how she was; she said she was fine. She asked how work was; he didn't lie. It wasn't going well. The Joker was continuing to make his life miserable. Somehow that failed to reassure her of anything. It simply reminded her of that promise she'd made to him not so long again.

"_I won't let any harm come to you or your family."_ Suddenly that seemed very constricting. Very binding. It hurt to know that no matter how hard she tried to sever all connections with this man, something else was always holding her put.

But he was talking again, and that drew her attention away from her self pitying thoughts.

"We haven't caught the Joker yet, Valentine. He might still come for you…."

She smiled; there was something ironic about that notion as well. Hadn't she been the one who had so eagerly gone to the Joker? Her smile did not go unnoticed, and the aging Commission favored her with a curious look, causing her grin to widen. "He won't come for me, Gordon. He's to busy with his Batsy to notice me. And if it makes you feel any better, I don't intend to stay long." That was a lie. She had every intention of staying. "Just here for business."

And then he was smiling as well, big and completely human, "So I've read. Some of the papers have taken a shine to the idea of another nightclub."

"I should hope so considering all the money I've spent hyping the place."

Gordon chuckled to himself, "It's nice to see you again, Val." He paused, "Maybe you'd like to have lunch? I know James would be happy to see you again." He leaned in towards her confidentially, "truth be told, he was rather upset that you up and left without getting him those chocolates you promised."

They both shared a chuckle, and for a moment, just a moment, she was tempted to take him up on the offer.

Her cell phone range, cutting off her intended response. Giving him an apologetic little smile, she answered the device. "Hello?"

Gordon watched confused as the woman's face went through a wash of emotions. First shock, then a sudden pang of grief, then what appeared to be anger. She was near snarling into her phone, "Why wasn't I told earlier?" Someone warbled something out on the other line, contrite, whimpering. It seemed odd, but it really wasn't his place to pry in her affairs. Whatever was said next was apparently to irritating for her to deign with a response, for she snapped the phone shut irritably.

There was pain in her eyes when she spoke to him again, "I'm sorry, Gordon. Something just came up…at the restaurant, I have to go…tend to it."

"Of course. Next time then."

He stared after her, knowing full well something else had been the problem. Knowing full well she had lied to his face. Gordon would give it a little more time. Maybe she just needed to readjust.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Joker was vaguely aware of the pain as he threaded the needle through the grizzly laceration on his ribs, a dull, numb sensation that crossed his plane of awareness as it the object broke skin and came free again, stitching the wound clumsily back together.

That hadn't gone exactly as he had planned it. Turned out Batsy was considerably more lenient with his golden standards then the Clown Prince had remembered. He may not kill but, he was willing to come daringly close to it.

And now, after a narrow escape, he sat on his bed in their new nightclub. His dolly had been making renovations to the place, and now it was nice enough to pass as a posh establishment. One might not have guessed it however, from the bare state of his room. But he didn't need any niceties. Just the basics.

Though those things would have been nice now, considering his condition.

He was sitting shirtless on the bed, working on the afore mentioned gash. It curved nastily around the bones, almost around to his back, and the skin around the area was bruised to a near black color, the blood vessels having been bruised. Other areas on his torso matched this, dark and horribly bruised. The same dull pain accompanied them as well.

Damn Batsy and his claws.

He returned to his work.

On the other side of his door, his peons were shouting. Someone was coming down the hall from the sounds of it, and someone else was trying to stop them. The notion amused him, and he continued blithely on with his task.

And then his dolly burst into the room, having returned from her trip, her pretty face a mask of rage and hate, and other nasty emotions that just didn't sit well with her. If it weren't for the gash, he might even laugh at the absurdity of the image.

Damn Batsy and his claws.

Somehow he wasn't surprised that she was angry. In fact, he was half counting on it. He set his needle aside, turning the full of his attention onto her fuming figure. She wanted to hit him; that much he could tell, but she held herself in check, very much aware that he was stronger then her. And that he was of very ill temperament.

Her tone was cold, "You killed her."

He crinkled his forehead, deciding to feign innocence, smacking his lips together, "To be fair, I've killed a lot of hers."

At her outraged expression, he settled back a little bit, and prepared for the coming argument.

He'd missed this about his dolly.

* * *

Sky: Okay, I was a tad leery about the whole dream thing. But I think it came out pretty alright. Now...WHOO! A chapter.

Joker: The fact that you're impressed that you updated actually makes me sad.

Valentine: Agreed.

Sky: Well, no matter what these sorry sports say, I am content. Now, if you good readers would be kind enough to review (even if it's just to point out that I'm a lazy bum with god awful update speeds) that would be awesome. Till next time, my friends!


	20. Chapter 20: Motivation

Sky: (Glancing amusedly over reviews) My reviewers have dirty minds…

Valentine: Or maybe they have the right idea….(winks)

Sky: Perhaps. But, I'll address this issue after the chapter, because they might have the right idea. However, at the moment, I have to deal with something else. Okay, here it goes, my dear reader. After this chapter, I will, _probably_, not be updating for a bit. At least not through the month of November. I have a writing contest to do, and I'll be attempting to pound out a 50,000 word draft novel. So, I won't have much time to do this little story. BUT WHEN IT'S DONE I'M GONNA FINISH THIS! First thing. Seriously. Before editing my other story even. Now, on that note! ONWARDS!

**Chapter 20: Motivation  
**

He was watching her with a sense of bemusement, looking more amused by her rant then intimidated by it. When she sharpened her tone, he'd simply shoot her an amused, quirky little smile, degrading and dismissive, and return to his personal task. One he was having quite the time with; his penchant for destruction was obviously not shared in the category of first aid, for his attempts to stitch up the tattered flesh on his ribs was falling far short of satisfactory.

The former officer let out an aggravated huff, stepping forward and snatching the needle from his hand. He simply smirked in response, eyebrows raised in the condescending way he had. "Needed my needle to make your point, sweet heart?"

"I was _trying_ to talk to you."

"You were _trying _to rant at me." He paused, considering. "Key word being trying."

She was done. She was just done with this. She was tired of being his dolly, tired of pandering to his every whim, tired of constantly waiting to see if he might snap and lash out at her. And he _would_ one day lash out at her; she was neither foolish, nor idealistic, enough to believe otherwise. One day, for a reason or not, he would do to her as he had so impetuously done to Liz.

The inelegant mixture of anger and sickly fear left her feeling foolish enough to risk this debate, knowing full well the outcome. She would lose. She would cave. She would eventually cower in front of him and return to doing his bidding. Beg him to let her worship him again, under the foolish, but chosen, charade of a strained friendship. She _would_ fail.

It was simply a matter of seeing how long she could endure.

With this depressing thought flirting with her logic, she allowed herself to continue on. Logic had very little place in affairs such as these. This was for Liz and her own sanity.

Valentine tightened her grasp on the needle subconsciously, finally turning the whole of her attention on her supposed, and ill chosen, friend. He was grinning again, the silly expression failing to cast a friendly light on his artificially pale face, caked with makeup. Her voice came out, and to her delight, it didn't crack, didn't break, didn't fold under his influence as she had presumed it would. It came as strong and cold as she could manage it. "Why did you kill her, Joker?"

The same grin on his face. He was waiting for her, eyes narrowed in amusement, head tilted ever so slightly to the side, watching her, judging her, predicting her line of attack. A sense of smug satisfaction hung from the man's slender shoulder , perhaps enjoying what he was forcing her to do. "Thugs need a reason to kill someone, princess. Assassins need a reason to kill someone. Know why? Greed. Money, too." His smile spread, becoming toothy, the yellow things striking a stark contrast to the crimson of his lips, "I'm not quite so selfish."

"I don't believe that was my question."

"No, it wasn't. But that was the answer I gave you. And," he gave her an appraising look. She remained small; if anything she'd become more frail since he met her. Lack of sleep was playing havoc on her systems. "From the looks of things, you just have to accept that."

Irrational. She felt irrational pushing the argument. All things considered, he was being uncommonly gracious to her, providing a way out if she chose to except it. "That's all you going to give me? A half assed explanation to explain your equally half assed behavior? Be truthful. Did she annoy you? Challenge something you said? Maybe dress wrong? She must have done something to irritate you, your highness."

He continued to watch her, and his amusement continued to grow, till he seemed on the verge of laughter. He wanted to laugh, _needed_ to laugh, at this show she was putting on, parading around as if she had some say in this. A deluded, insensible notion that perhaps she could set something right by challenging him.

Valentine continued her rant. "Did she refuse to kill someone for you? Didn't want to butcher that innocent girl just the way you ordered her to? Please, do tell me, what the hell motivated you to off the one person here I could actually talk to, that I could actually spend time with, without having to worry about waking up with a shredded face!"

When he actually chose to deign her with a response, his tone was even and cool, a striking contrast to her own babbling, nonsensical pitch, "Are you quite through with that self indulgent rant of yours?"

"Caring about your friends, being in pain over their death; that's suddenly self indulgent?"

"No. Pain is not self indulgent. Grief is not self indulgent. But you didn't present either of those emotions in your case now, did you, princess? No. You came in here, babbling, angry, seemingly infused with _righteous _anger. But. You. Were. Not. Angry. About. Liz. Were you?"

"Does my answer even matter now that you've made up your mind about my motives?"

"Your opinion doesn't matter to me. Mostly because it's wrong, but that's beside the point. You know, as well as I, that coming in here was a risk. Ranting at me was a risk. Now, however stupid you may act, deep down, there's a part of you that's not completely brain dead. And you like to live."

He continued holding up a hold to silence whatever she had originally intended to say, "Risking your hide to seemingly defend the honor of a woman you barely knew, who'd been dead for two weeks; that just doesn't add up. Meaning you came here to accomplish something else. Maybe to reaffirm some image you have in your head. Maybe to trick your mind, make it think you're a prisoner, justify your continued service with me despite whatever evils I've done. You needed to fight me. You needed to save whatever shred of your humanity you cling to, even if it means lying to yourself."

She squared her shoulders, unwilling to surrender so easily this time, "You're wrong."

The Clown Prince of Crime chuckled, the sound surprisingly light and welcome in the tense atmosphere. "If it helps you sleep at night, sweet heart." It was a simple declaration, but it carried a warning message with it. The conversation was over. Whatever leniency he'd showed her before would not be extended if she pushed this any further.

She sighed, shaking her head a tad, feeling so suddenly tired. The plane flight had caught up with her, the events of the previous week had caught up with her, and the sudden, total, realization of Liz's death had sunk in all at once. With a mumble and a toss of the head, she sat down beside her benefactor. He was watching her now, a bit more curiously, almost as if ensure what she intended to do. She wasn't entirely certain herself.

Finally, resigning to the fact that her anger wasn't going to accomplish anything, at least not at the moment, she held up the needle, still clutched delicately in the palm of her hand, nodding towards the laceration. "Move your arm."

He snickered, "You suddenly a doctor?"

"I took a first aid class in college. You know, back when I still had ambitions." He looked far from thrilled with the prospect of excepting anyone's help. Had he not made such a bloody mess of the gash himself, he likely would have shunned her assistance forthright. But it was still seeping blood, and it did need to be treated. Ever so slightly, he moved his arm back. Better to accept some help from her then stride, bleeding, out amongst the peons.

Valentine began the task of stitching the ugly thing back together, none to skillfully at that. Suffering through the grunts and condescending glares showered upon her, she finished sowing the cut back together. It was still discolored, thanks to the bruising, but, at least, it had stopped bleeding so profusely. She took the piece of gauze set aside on the comforter and smoothed it over her uneven work. "There we are."

He gave her a dark look, glancing from the now covered, garish wound, and back to his dolly. "You didn't pass that first aid class, did you?"

"You're not bleeding anymore are you?" She shot back, sticking her nose high in the air, pretending to be offended by his statement. She wasn't. There were far more discourteous things about the man then his lack of faith in her medical credentials.

Joker rose, not debating her argument. As clumsy as the bandage looked it _was _doing its job. He crossed to the dresser, grabbing another one of his trademark shirts, the thing neatly pressed and clean, just waiting for him.

She watched him, half amused by how much pride he took in the state, and style of, his clothes, and just how odd he really looked without them. His skin wasn't discolored, like his makeup caked face, it was just…off. And, like his face, it had been horribly scarred.

The marks were old, thick and twisting, discolored and glaring obvious against the pallor of his skin, covering a decent portion of the exposed flesh. Some curved up over his collar bone, like her own scar, others cut cleanly across the muscles of his arms and stomach. They made him look lankier. And unlike the abrasions on his face, these marks were not garishly highlighted to inflict fear. They simply were. They were pain, the abuse he'd suffered at one time or another. They were scars, and nothing more.

Time had not been kind to the man.

"Hey, princess. Drooling…doesn't become you."

She was snapped out of whatever introspective state she had been flirting with, her attention jerked brusquely back to her current situation. "Sorry, just admiring your scars."

"Uh_-huh_."

"It's true."

"You know what I'm going to say…?"

She gave him her most winning smile, "That despite your previous misgivings I'm actually right?" She got one of those patented, demeaning grins that said she couldn't be any further from the truth. The woman rolled her eyes in response, to tired, and still a tad to angry, to trust herself to playing their usual game. "Whatever helps me sleep at night, blah, blah, blah." She waved her hand tiredly and, in a dramatic show of emotional distress, or perhaps irritation, she collapsed backward on the comforter. Tired. A nap was sounding nicer and nicer.

But it wasn't time for her to sleep yet, apparently.

Joker laughed and returned to the bed, settling down next to her, laying on his side so he could still speak to her and stare her down. And breathe on her apparently. She had the brief desire to swat away his breath. It was both uncomfortably warm and impossibly stale. As if he hadn't been brushing his teeth for a decent while.

Somehow that notion didn't seem to far removed from reality.

Opening her eyes, she favored him with a dark look that only served to widen his smirk. Failing this, she rolled onto her side as well, contemplative. She wasn't entirely comfortable to how readily she adjusted to his presence, or how quickly the thought of his atrocities departed to the corners of her mind whenever he egged her on, but….

It was confusing. Valentine regarded him, tone serious, "You realize I probably won't be able to trust you again?"

"Trust is….weak. That you trusted me in the first place says something about your…sanity."

Now, a certain levity had crept into her voice, smile finally edging it's way to the corners of her mouth, "You know, I might have to kill you someday…"

He was laughing now, obviously amused by the notion. By traditional means, she wouldn't be able to achieve the lofty standard. She wasn't deluding herself. She lacked both the physical strength and the drive to even attempt to challenge him.

Joker smiled and ruffled her hair, like a boy cheerfully patting the head of his favorite puppy, dismissing its bad behavior offhandedly, amused by its ridiculous, innocent behavior. "You haven't slept recently have you?"

"I'm assuming that's an insult aimed pointedly at my sanity…."

"Of course."

She smiled, curling up on herself comfortably, "Yes. I'm tired."

She was on the receiving end yet another one of his glares, "Go to your own room, princess. I need to…"

"If you don't hush I might end up having to cuddle you into silence."

He snickered, but didn't try to disturb her again.

**Sky: Okay, this was originally longer. But I thought you all deserved an update, so here it is. Sorry it wasn't as fluffy as you might have desired. On the upside, if things go as I have planned them, you guys might be able to expect an advance in the relationship in two or three chapters.**

**Valentine: I wanted to cuddle.**

**Joker: I wanted to make that needle disappear!**

**Sky: (Stares) Okay then. K. So, hopefully things will go well, I hope you guys can understand. TILL NEXT TIME, MY FRIENDS!**


	21. Chapter 21: Opening Night

Sky: I'M BACK! And ready to finish this thing! Sorry this took so long, I'll talk about it after the chapter.

Valentine: (Glancing around herself) Except I'm pretty sure your reviewers have left.

Sky: Oh. Well, that's awkward. BUT WHO CARES! Next chapter for ya'll! Yeah. We're gonna pound out the rest of this story. Cause' I'm done with NaNoWriMo! WHOO!

Joker: And people call me a freak. Sky does not own me, Batman, or any of the affiliated characters or trademarks. On the other hand, she does own Valentine (sorry, babe) and whatever wispy remnants of a plot she is so fervently clinging to.

Sky: ONWARDS! Oh…and ignore the…very cliché club name I used. WHOOT!

* * *

**Chapter 21: Opening Night  
**

After so many nights hopping from rooftop to rooftop, ducking in and out of shadows; after so many knife fights and bruises, this….seemed rather common place.

Dawn was beginning to break over the cities skyline, the pinky orange rays from the sun twisting and contorting as they met the pollution in the air, giving the city a unique tint, one not duplicable. It was an odd sight, the light breaking as it encountered the thin, but omnipresent, smog. Dawn was breaking and, yet, Bruce Wayne was only now returning to his penthouse, tired and worn from the long night. And it would be a while yet before he could sleep.

The man lurched tiredly inside, steps devoid of their usual lightness, their inherent grace, stripping off each section of his suit. He didn't bother to gather them up, or see where they might have fallen, allowing them to litter the suite's floor.

Later; he could attend to them latter.

His face contorted in pain as his hand came to the chest piece, feeling the serrated edges of a knife digging into his side. A present from one of the Joker's latest flunkies. Another sharp spasm of pain; the suit had managed to stop the brunt of the attack, but the blow had still broke skin; he could feel the tip of the razor, lodged in the armor, waiting for any excuse to knick him again.

He growled, forcing down the feeling, the urge, to whimper, plucking the weapon from his flesh. It hurt; some part of his mind informed him of that numbly. He ignored it. Pain was a luxury he seldom could afford, and the wound and its accompanying discomfort had to be shoved back, down, into the void of his subconscious. Satisfied, he stripped off the remainder of the suit before settling down into one of the suites armchairs.

Involuntarily, he felt his eyes starting to slide closed. The wounds on his side, the bruises; they all needed to be treated. He had to treat them….

Later; he could tend to them later…now he needed to sleep….

A sigh; the sound filled the near silent room, breaking his brief hold on sleep. He was vaguely aware of someone speaking to him, the warm, familiar voice cutting through the coldness of his memories. A welcome reprieve. "One of these days your going to get yourself killed, Master Wayne."

His eyes cracked open, taking in the figure of the man most prominent, most stable, in his life. "I can't afford to get myself killed, Alfred," he flashed the butler a bitter sweet half smile.

"Regardless, you should take better care of yourself, sir," the older man set the paper down on the end table, watching as Bruce quickly glanced over the thing. Another Joker crime, another rumor spread about his personal life, another death, another something.

There was always another something he had to tend to. He sighed and looked away, massaging his temples tiredly. The muscles in his back were knotting up, exhaustion beginning to creep in on his senses.

Alfred picked the paper back up, flipping through to the page he'd dog eared earlier, "I thought you might find this interesting."

He accepted the proffered item with a nod, glancing over the page with feigned interest, more to appease his old friend then anything else. There was a picture of a rather posh looking establishment, a caption below it highlighting its name and owner. The article itself was rather sketchy, seldom detailing much about either, offering more a description of the furniture then anything else. Bruce forced himself to smile, quoting the opening line of the piece, "Lilith Valentine's new night club, Joker's Wild, opens tonight. In these stressful times we could all use another place to blow off steam." He set the paper down, "Poetic." Hardly, and the name showed an extreme lack of tact. Gotham was being terrorized by that lunatic; the last thing they needed was a club named after him.

Alfred shifted to standing on his other foot, arms tucked behind his back, "I thought you might be interested in attending."

"We both know I have more important things…"

"Master Wayne," the butler tones was tired, weary of having to advise the younger man in such a way, "Those criminals will still be there for you to catch tomorrow evening. Their will always be more of them. There is only one of you though, sir. You need a night away from it all." Seeing this was not swaying the other, he changed tactics, "People are going to start asking questions if you continue to hide yourself away like this. It was Batman they drove away. Not Bruce Wayne."

There was a silence between them, not tense, but considerate. It was the kind that often passed between them, Bruce taking pause to consider the opinion his friend had proffered, the other respecting his need to think it over, giving him time. After a little while, he nodded, smiling, "I think Gordon used to know Ms. Valentine. I'm sure he wouldn't mind going."

Alfred looked pleased, gathering up some of the stray pieces of the Bat Suit before turning to leave his employer, his friend, to garner some much needed rest.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Opening night.

Under normal circumstances, she supposed it would have been a nerve wracking escapade, one that would have left her a quivering, jumpy mess; as was, with the Joker and his troupe lurking just around the corner, waiting for all and any excuse to jump into action, she felt her nerves split and fire off, nearing on paranoia. Or a mental breakdown.

She downed the remnants of her drink, screwing her face up as the bitter liquid connected with her tongue, sliding down her throat with some reservation, plunking the empty glass down on the counter. Anything to staunch her fraying nerves. Guiltily, she poured herself another drink, replacing the bottle under the counter. Another sip, eyes darting shiftily from shadow to shadow, just waiting for her companion to come traipsing out of the darkness, a mock innocent smile on his face, his very presence enough to send her guests running in terror.

Terror. A scandal. That was all she needed her opening night.

"You doing okay there, Val?" She glanced up at the feel of a hand resting comfortingly on her shoulder. Half heartedly, the woman reached up to pat it, managing a tired smile. Jansen's tall form was standing beside her, surveying her state.

"As well as can be expected," she managed a smile for him, purposely keeping herself from seeing the hurt crossing his features. Ever since Liz's death he had become infinitely more protective of her. He could tell when she was so obviously lying to him. The corners of her lips turned up just a little bit more, a hint of bitterness echoed in their shape.

For all his attempts to protect her, sometimes she just…desperately needed some time on her own. Needed to get away from all her troubles, from the figures so prominent in her life, and just…sort things out, a time out or…something…

Whatever that something could be, it was not available to her. The previous week had been a hectic, chaos filled one, free from any sort of reprieve, even when she needed it most. The club had required next to all of her attention, managing the PR, managing certain aspects of the gang, managing her own relationships as tumultuous and self destructive as they had become…

No, she had had no time.

She frowned into her drink, sipping it again, ashamed to have sunk to this depth, drinking to cool her nerves instead of trying to deal with her problems.

Well…problem, if she was being entirely truthful. There was only one true problem in her life and from it, all of the others stemmed. And that problem had one title…

The Joker. It made her finish her drink in one gulp.

He hadn't made her week any easier, and she'd been an idiot to expect he might have been. The mercurial creature had flitted in and out of her schedule, occasionally making irrational demands of her, to accompany him on his latest heist idea, help him scheme something against the Batman, occasionally opting to tease her, make lewd jokes, question her irrational loyalty…

She was nearly certain the man was something of a force of nature. Whisking in and out of her life, wrecking anything unfortunate to cross his path, all in chaos' name. He was chaos, bound in a human form, its elegant, slender figure cutting a striking contrast against the havoc he left in his wake. That was, perhaps, his greatest, most intriguing, if not more dangerous, facet. It kept her tenuously loyal to him, no matter how destructive the union proved to be…

She hated herself for it. Hated that she couldn't muster up the courage to truly defy him.

She needed another drink. The former officer bent at the waist, searching under the counter for her beverage of choice, a cinnamon tinged whiskey. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jansen shaking his head, distressed, before turning back to serving their guests. _Her _guests. That she couldn't bother attending to.

She hated herself sometimes. Even more when she actually poured the drink.

She returned the bottle to its place, raising her glass in mock salute to her friend, before glancing back to the party. It was going well, even without her attention, a refreshing change of pace. No one was screaming in pain, no one had been shot, no one had their faces carved up in hideous patterns set to mimic the Joker's own scars….they were just…dancing, drinking, being…normal.

It was unsettling. Valentine was willing to admit that. She also had to admit that she could become comfortable with this dull, static system of life.

It wasn't meant to be.

Almost as quickly as the thought had occurred to her, arms twined around her waist, holding her fast in place. Valentine grimaced, cringing, as warm breath traveled down her neck and back, the feeling uncomfortable as it slid down her spine with an unnerving closeness. She refused to struggle however, resisting her bodies inherent urge to fight against her captor, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. The man, one of the few brazen enough to grab her so forwardly, chuckled into the wild mass of curls atop her head, forced into submission from their casually, sordidly straight nature just for the occasion, snickering to himself, voice coming out low and unabashedly amused, "Quite a party you got here, princess."

Valentine rolled her eyes, finally pulling against his grasp. The woman didn't want him touching her, not after what he had done to Liz. Whatever she may have desired however, she went nowhere, held forcefully in place by the unrelenting force employed on her limbs whenever she tried to squirm away. Despite the pain he was visibly causing her, her face screwing up as he ground gave another warning squeeze, he smiled down at her with a playfully.

The man was always willing to play.

Giving up on her desperate, last ditch attempt at escape, she spun into him instead, glaring up into his face instead. His smile only widened, lowering his head to brush lips against her cheek in a mock friendly greeting. It left a long crimson streak across the skin, tracing the high bone. She scowled, "Why are you here? You said you were going after your "Batsy." Batsy…somehow…she hated him almost as much. And those feelings were not wavering, not fleeting as her occasion dislike of the Joker was.

It disgusted her but…she hated how much attention the man received from her companion.

Said companion shrugged, pointedly ignoring her question. Glancing over her shoulder to the various guests, none of whom seemed to notice the predicament their hostess had gotten herself into. "You were thinking of me anyway. And wouldn't you prefer me to be close enough to safely monitor?"

She managed to wrap her fingers around her glass, sipping on the beverage, trying to alleviate the sudden anxiety playing havoc with her nerves, sighing loudly, "For all the good that will do me."

He smirked, brushing fingers distractingly up and down her spine. She glared, raising a brow in a mix of annoyance and curiosity. The man was, in his own annoying way, finding new ways to insult her, touching her now, when she was both defenseless, and extremely adverse to the notion. At her uncomfortable fidgeting, he slowed the motion, purposely making it more languid. Lecherous wretch. He frowned, halting the motion, noticing something he seemed annoyed by. Using one hand to grab her chin, he inclined her head from side to side, trying to cast some of the low light over her features. It succeeded, illuminating the heavy bags under her eyes. "Ya know…you aren't half so pretty when you're all…wrinkly…"

She rolled her eyes, "I'm the same age, idiot."

"You haven't been sleeping…" his lips turned up in a smug little grin, "or you've been dabbling in my makeup again."

"Very funny."

"Not fighting back today?"

"No, I'm trying to keep my voice down. All we need is for someone to turn around and recognize you." The image of some poor sap catching sight of the Joker then screaming bloody murder flirted with her awareness.

"If your guests weren't all so drunk I might consider that an actual reason."

"It _is_ an actual reason."

He smiled, taking her drink from her limp hand, sipping it before making a face and squeaking out one word, "Li-ar." He shook his head, trying to fend off her beverage, "God woman, that's vile."

Despite all her previous gripes, the lack of sleep and stress weighing her down, her lips were involuntarily turned up in a smile. It was so easy, to slide back into the comfortable familiarity of their previous relationship, the teasing, taunting thing. "It's cinnamon!"

She snatched her drink back, turning to set it on the counter. It lacked the harshness of her previous movements however, more friendly, more joking. The woman paused however, catching a figure weaving through the crowd, his features familiar even in the low light and crowd. A moments focus dissolved any traces of doubt.

"Gordon!"

Joker frowned, glancing over her shoulder, ignoring the horror crossing her features; indeed, the Commissioner was striding towards them; he ducked his head lower, dragging the small woman back with him towards the lower light provided in the corner, "Well waddaya know, you're knight in shining armor's come to play."

She stuck her tongue out at him, "You aren't funny."

"You just don't get the subtleties of my humor…"

Valentine sent another fervent glance over her shoulder, fidgeting again, trying to stifle her desire to move, to run. Gordon was getting closer. Her tone came out as a low hiss, "Let me go. I can distract him while you go and hide."

He snickered, smacking his lips together in amusement, the sound disturbingly out of character with the loud music and laughing guests, " Me? You want the Ace of Knaves to run and hide from your itty bitty officer?"

"I want you to hide, not run. If Gordon's here, chances are your beloved Batsy is here too…." she paused, trying to come up with a convincing reason to get the man to hide. That hiding would keep their club in business, that it would keep them from going to jail, that it would save lives…

Yeah. None of the those reasons would work. They weren't self serving. They wouldn't help him and thus, weren't valid. "If Batman's here you can surprise him, capture him, whatever it is you plan to do with him. But…you have to hide. Or you'll blow your cover."

He sighed, like a child being told he couldn't open that Christmas present early, puffing out his lips in a pouty motion. With some reservation, he released his hold on her waist, "Spoilsport."

"Just being logical."

He threw a glance towards Gordon, batting his eyes in what she was supposed was a snide impersonation of herself, "Fine. Go distract him…or whatever it is you plan to do."

She stuck her tongue out at him once more.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Commissioner James Gordon was not comfortable. There were to many people, all of them inebriated, the music was to loud for him to concentrate effectively, the area to dark for him to aim well.

He didn't like it. They should have been using back up, the club should have been evacuated or…something. The man sighed; there was nothing to do about it.

Mr. Wayne had advise him to frequent the club, knowing full well that it was in the Jokers to disrupt such high profile events. And, looking around, he was very certain that was true. He was here, hidden, just beyond his vision. Somewhere close.

He needed to find Valentine. Needed to warn her about the danger.

"Gordon!"

The woman he had been searching for was walking towards him, arms extended forward, wrapping around him in a friendly hug , a smile grazing her features. She looked genuinely pleased to see him, patting him on the back in greeting. Valentine held him out at arms length, grinning, "What brings you here? You hate clubs!"

"I'd like to say I'm here to wish you success." He shook his head, taking one of her arms and pulling her aside, towards the edge of the crowd, closest to the wall, "A reliable source has informed me that you might have an unwelcome guest here tonight." The woman appeared to be confused, one of her nervous ticks clicking in, her brow arching in inquisition. "We think the Joker might be here."

Valentines features took on a concerned quality, eyes darting to and fro as though searching for the man. The one who had taken her hostage, held a gun at her head, threatened her life…

Gordon gave her arm a comforting squeeze, trying to quell some of her anxiety, certain to keep his tone soft, soothing, "Don't worry, Valentine, we've caught the man before, and we will catch him again."

"I know you will," she smiled, still looking uneasy, despite his assurances. She switched topics, to a more familiar, light one, "So, how's Barbara?"

"She's…" He paused, seeing some movement near the counter. A figure slipping out of the shadows. It was a tall, lanky, form, the features overly sharp in the low light. There was no paint on its features, but…the marks around its mouth were more familiar then he was fond of. The Commissioner patted her arm once more, dismissing himself from the woman despite her protests, weaving his way through the crowd, towards the counter.

Whoever it was turned, catching sight him.

And ran.

Gordon gave chase, the crowd letting out small screams and gasps as he cut through the crowd. From behind him, he could hear Valentine yelling out to him, terror lacing her tone. Ignoring her warnings, he sprinted on faster, bursting out the still open door to the alley behind the club.

The Commissioner's breath was visible in the cool air, coming out in loud pants. He spun around in the alley, hand going to the pistol holstered on his belt. There was silence around him. There was only his own breathing coloring the area around him. The Joker was, apparently, gone.

He took a few steps forward, holding his gun at the ready now, glancing around again. There was no one there.

Something behind him cracked. Gordon spun around as quickly as he was capable of, only to have a fist connect squarely with his jaw, sending the frailer, older man sprawling. A grinning façade was hovering over his face, the painted man's face turned up in a sickening mixture of glee an annoyance. He held up a knife, teasingly brushing the deadly item against the officers cheek, barely nicking him.

He watched, prone, as the man positioned the dagger at his neck, the lunatic grinning all the way. His vision was becoming foggy, so dark, the trauma from the earlier blow taking effect, blood trickling down across his lip.

The terrorists eyes glistened cheerfully, a deadly glint with in their depths, tone coming out as a cold purr, "Goodnight, Co-missioner…"

Blackness descended over his vision, and the last thing the aging officer remembered seeing was a figure colliding with the Joker's, throwing the villain off balance and to the side. Then there was nothing.

* * *

Sky: Ok, so it wasn't the best chapter. Gotta get the hand of this again. But. Yeah. I am so gonna finish this story.

Joker: (eyeing Sky darkly) Yeah. She's lying to you.

Sky: AM NOT!

Val: She's lying. Don't trust her. She'll crush your dreams.

Sky: I am not lying! The next chapter is mostly done. So it should be out in a few days. Now, as to why this one took so long, here's the reason. I had two drafts of it. In the first, this ended with Valentine and the Joker kissing in an alley. And that just didn't work. Since that won't be happening again (writing to drafts, not the kissing ^_^), I should be able to pump out the chapters regularly. Oh and…uh, the thing about Bruce at the beginning, I'll explain it next chapter. It WOULD have made sense but…uh…had to cut this chapter for pacing issues. BUT HE'S IN IT THE NEXT CHAPTER!

Joker: Ugh. Stop. Talking. Readers, if you're still out there, do us a favor and review. Shut this chick up and she'll update for you.

Sky: WHOO! YEAH! Till next time, my friends!


	22. Chapter 22: Comfort Zones

Sky: I hate school….I'm pretty darn sure its siphoning away all the writers. Cause no one is updating…(grumbles darkly under breath while checking update list.)

Joker: I hate _you_, but do you hear me complaining?

Val: Yes. Frequently. (Pauses) ….All the time, actually.

Joker: (Glares) …You realize I'm gonna kill you right? Good. Alright, everyone, Sky does not own anything in this story. Except Valentine. The poor girl just can't escape.

Sky: WHOO! No escape! And, as a quick and almost totally random side note, I hate writing action sequences! On that note, onwards, my homies!

* * *

**Chapter 22: Comfort Zone**

There should have been a better way to handle the situation.

In all honesty, she was sure there was. But there had been no time to think, panic gripping her nerves in a deathly tight choke hold, forcing action, rational or not.

It had _not _been rational.

Joker held the knife leveled at the Commissioners throat and…there had been only panic. Fear and panic, the inability to think logically . Valentine had, foolishly, launched into what she perceived to be the only correct course of action, sprinting as quickly as possible through the still open door into the alley, throwing the whole of her weight towards the mans crouched figure. Shock registered across the elegant planes of his painted face, the unexpected blow causing him to stagger to the side, knife merely grazing Gordon's shoulder.

Faster then she'd expected, and she should have expected more, the terrorist braced against her weight, bringing them both to an abrupt stop, forcing her to topple harmlessly against him. Hadn't been enough. There just hadn't been enough force there, not enough room for her to run, to send him sprawling…

The officer fought to regain her own balance, tried to regain momentum, use it to launch away from the man. She spun to the best of her abilities, trying to push off the ground, only to have him catch her forearm, spindly, spidery, fingers digging painfully into the exposed flesh, leaving discolored marks on the skin. Hard, she winced, to much pressure…and pain; she was vaguely aware of it as he used the brunt of his strength, and the remainder of her momentum, to jerk her back to the ground.

Valentine found it in herself to grimace, glaring at the man and his ever lasting grin. Her head was feeling groggy, pain and white lights dancing in front of her eyes, courtesy of her head being so brusquely introduced to the cement. A groan escaped her lips, eyes screwing shut in a desperate attempt to block out those sparkling lights. He cackled a bit; she could hear that much through the fog.

Should have been a better way to handle this….

The man was back on his feet, the ghostly white of his newly repainted features striking a distinct contrast to the blackness surrounding them, towering over her prone figure. She could feel the fear now, its traitorous tendrils wrapping about, strangling, her nerves, the emotion spreading to her gut as he bent, grabbing a handful of the front of her dress. He had never been gentle, or overly kind, but now, at her intervention he was proving to be less tender then before, giving the fabric a hard yank to pull her to her feet. Her vision was still foggy, everything a blur, but she could still see the fire dancing in the man's preternaturally dark eyes, a dubious amalgam of anger, irritation, some dark, nearly unseen amusement…

The amusement was, evidently, in the least supply. She managed an apologetic smile, following how his eyes darted hastily between her own figure and the still breathing Commissioners. She'd come between him and his plans. Him and his mistress, chaos. And _she _would always be more important then Valentine. Snarling irritably, his hand flew out, coming to connect painfully with her cheek, leaving an angry red line across the skin. A tribute to what her disobedience would net her.

And she was sent sprawling again, her forward momentum stopped this time when her should connected painfully with the alley wall.

But he didn't come back to her this time, left her collapsed on the cement, clutching her cheek, moaning. She managed to right herself, somewhat, enough to see whatever he intended to do; he was heading for Gordon, still unconscious, still bleeding.

She should have thought this through…the helpless panic was coursing through her system again. He was going to kill Gordon…he was going to kill Gordon…

"Mind if I drop in?"

A black blur dropped from the shadows and, as she had only moments earlier, launched itself towards the lanky villain, black and purple uniting to form a garish mixture as the two combatants tumbled about, each wrestling for a nonexistent advantage over the other. Batman was too strong, the Joker too fast. It would, as all things between the two men did, end in nothing more then a stalemate.

The ex-officer allowed herself a torn look between the brawling men, and, interminably, the one who had set her free, despite his various and many, many sins, the one she followed by choice and circumstance, and the prone Commissioner who had saved her life and bought her loyalty through guilt. Her head still hurt; it was still foggy, one thought alone able to cut through the haze. There had to be a way, some way, to get everyone out of this intact…

She scrambled clumsily to her feet, lurching towards Gordon. She patted the back of her hand frantically, lightly, against his cheek, trying to break his stupor. He let out a small groan, but otherwise remained motionless, eyes lolling momentarily before closing once more. With one final, guilty look at her new companion she made her choice. With some effort, she slung the Commissioners arm over her shoulders, managing to drag the larger man to his feet.

There was a momentary lull in the brawl, enough, just enough, for the Joker to shoot her a last glance. It lacked the anger, some of the stinging hatred, of the one he had favored her with moments earlier. It was a small, bitter thing, amusement dancing ironically around the corners of his eternal smile. And beneath it, perhaps, the faint traces of…pride.

All she felt was guilty, turning her back on the scene as the fight intensified anew, hauling her aged charge back into the club.

The music, still blaring, and the dark lighting, managed to distract her guests for a moment, few noticing their hostess weaving through their ranks. A little way into their ranks, however, and even their inebriation failed to dull their reaction to a corpse being drug through their number. The socialites, used to posh parties rather then bloodied officers and bruised hostesses, scattered, some screaming as she hastily crossed to the counter. She refused to turn her attention to the pandemonium blossoming around them.

Only Jansen approached her, glancing worriedly from the unconscious Gordon to the nascent, crimson, streak so strikingly emblazoned across her cheek. And then he looked angry, slipping into his overly protective state, "What happened?"

She only shook her head; they didn't have any time to discuss this. Her voice came out raspy, tired, leaning into her friend to speak in a quiet whisper, "I need you to gather some of the troupe and go out back as quickly as possible. Joker's going to need your help."

"Why the hell would I want to…"

"Please!" She knew her tired façade was rapidly dissolving, allowing the desperation to shine through, "I know he hurt you; I know you miss Liz, but do this for me. Go help him."

However resentful he may have been, he nodded, as loyal to her as she was to the Joker. Perhaps, she noted with some tinge of hurt, his trust was just as misplaced as her own. He nodded, but grabbed her arm before she could slide out, "Be careful."

She paused, considering the effort it would take to follow the seemingly simple dictum. After a moment, she nodded slowly, "I promise."

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

Barbara was preparing herself for bed, brushing the tangles out of her hair, removing her makeup, relishing in the silence of her home. The children had gone to sleep…there was only silence, a distinct change from the unusual anarchy running rampant through the building. It was nearly time for her to retire to sleeps delicate, soothing embrace…

A frenzied knock on the front door disturbed her previous plans, an equally hectic voice breaking the nights comfortable peace. Without pause, she was down the stairs, peering through the peep hole. A familiar face filled her vision. The voice came again, laced with exhaustion and worry, " Barbara, please open the door!"

With some reservation she did, brow arched in confusion as she took in the familiars woman's bedraggled appearance, her dress hanging awkwardly off her figure as though stretched beyond its means, makeup smeared. Exhaustion radiated from Valentine's figure; Barbara, on the other hand, seemed simply puzzled, perhaps annoyed, by Gordon's little ward showing up at her door in the dead of night. But there was some concern in her tone, subconscious, the older woman reaching out a hand to set on the others shoulder, attempting to calm her at least enough to talk coherently. "Lilith, what's wrong?"

"Gordon." The small woman shifted, bringing the Commissioners face and figure out of the shadow where she could clearly see it.

Her husbands head had lulled forward, one arm slung limply over the small woman's shoulders, causing the other to slump somewhat under the excess weight. It was then, she noted with some horror, that her eyes settled upon the blood seeping through his coat, stemming from some laceration imposed upon his shoulder, a garishly dark bruise coloring his jaw line. The frenzy from the other woman's tone seeped into Barbara's own voice, "Come inside," She took her husbands other arm, relieving some of the weight off her visitor.

The two women drug the officer inside, kicking the door shut behind them.

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

He awoke to a comfortable numbness in his appendages, the pain that ought to have been plaguing his head and shoulder pleasantly absent from his awareness. Still, Gordon let out a groan, not daring to open his eyes yet. At the moment, in this comfortable black numbness he found himself encompassed by, he was content merely with being alive. The Joker hadn't killed him. He wasn't dead.

Somehow that notion pleased him.

"James? Can you hear me?"

That was odd. The man opened his eyes, slowly so as to allow them to adjust to whatever light was in the room. To him surprise, his vision was filled with Barbara's face, concern coloring its fair features, hovering above him. She shook his shoulder lightly, brushing her opposite hand lightly against his forehead , taking his temperature. He flashed her a small smile, reaching up to clasp her hand, bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss.

She looked relieved, some color coming back into her previously pale features, "Are you alright?"

"Just seeing you make me feel better, Barbara," he nodded trying to push himself up into a sitting position, managing it with some assistance from his wife. "How'd I get back here?" More importantly, why was he still alive. The Joker…should have killed him…

"Lilith brought you back here after you were injured," his wife paused, obviously running through things in her head. The prospect of his possible death evidently did not sit well with her. His career demanded it of him however, though she despised facing his mortality.

He winced; the numbness was fading off, and the pain in his shoulder was finally taking shape; still, he reached up to caress her face, bringing her forehead to lean against his own. Her voice came out cracking the slightest bit, "Did you have to go to the club? Do you have to hunt him?"

"You know the answer to that, honey." She shook her head, unwilling to accept that. "You know I'd never willing endanger myself….and nothing's ever happened to me…"

"Your shoulder?"

He smiled, "Just a scratch, love." He brought her hand back to his lips, "Nothing's going to happen to me." She still looked far from reassured, but some peace had managed to descend over her countenance. He glanced around the room; only the two of them occupied it at the moment. "Where's Valentine?"

"If you mean Lilith, she's downstairs trying to keep your son from bursting up here in a panic."

"Poor girl," he meant it in more then one way. For distracting his son, for hauling him back here. And Bruce. He needed to thank him as well. He was certain he had had something to do with his salvation. "Should we go downstairs and rescue her?"

Barbara smiled at him, the first he had seen on her face since he had broken his stupor, "Of course."

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

He could hear the sound of the television from the top of the stairs, a loud, obnoxious cartoon playing on it, the characters high pitched voices drowning out the hushed whispers of the two figures huddled in front of it. Gordon watched as a smile tugged at the corners of Barbara's lips as her eyes settled on them, little James curled up beside the small woman, head resting on the corner of her lap, a blanket wrapped around both of them. Valentine was smiling to herself, stroking the little boys hair, trying to keep his mind off his injured father, looking perfectly content with the situation.

Gordon was about to clear his throat. He paused however, seeing another smile come to her face, this one relieved, obviously pleased that he was recovering so well, that he was sleeping now rather then unconscious. She bent slightly, enough to whisper something comforting in the boys ear. The child's shoulders relaxed somewhat.

The Commissioner motioned for his wife to stop for a moment, listening to his son, the boy whispering something to his older friend, "Is daddy going to be okay, Val?"

"Of course, it takes more then a little scrape to bring your daddy down."

"More then the Joker?"

She smiled, "More then the Joker, sweety."

James Jr. paused, turning to give her a weird little look, his tiny features contorted in concern, "Are you going to stay, Val? I can't protect you from Joker if you go away again."

His former employee chuckled, "Don't worry, honey. I'm not going back downtown, the Joker won't even know where I am."

"Promise?"

She smiled, "I promise." James relaxed again, closing his eyes and resigning himself to sleep once one.

Barbara leaned towards her husband, "Should we go down there?"

He shook his head, "In a little bit."

**G/O/T/H/A/M**

The day had gone better then expected. Well, the night. It had been a few hours since his little brawl, a few hours since his little dolly had run off with her little friend. His wounds had sealed himself and…he was quite satisfied with himself.

Batsy had shown up to play, he'd managed to cow the good Commissioner, and his dolly had proved that she did, in fact, have some semblance of a spine hidden beneath all that baseless bravado.

He chuckled to himself, the sound low and ominous in the near vacant room, continuing to sift through the papers spread haphazardly across his desk. Irritation started to mount as he failed to locate precisely what he was searching for. Were was it….there had been something here, something vital, something that would further his cause…

And now it was nowhere to be found. He pouted, sending a glance towards the door rather then glance at his desk once more. The door his dolly would no doubt be using in her hasty return to him, her face all flushed and pretty from the cool air outside. Just like porcelain.

About as easy to break too. It had taken more restraint then he'd himself thought capable of to keep from breaking her in the alley.

Still, he giggled contently to himself.

Yes, she'd be returning. Again. She would always come back for him. Some misguided sense of loyalty he supposed…a martyr like devotion to him and his cause…

Plus she didn't really have a choice. He'd taken the liberty of placing a bet with Jansen on whether or not she would return to him. So she was coming back here, be it kicking and screaming or willingly.

She'd come back willingly. He knew her well enough to predict that.

A sound in the hall, soft, quite, wary, steps marked her long awaited arrival. He could feel her there, rooted in the doorway, watching him, reservation, fear, all holding her back.

Things that did not hold sway over him. He favored her with a wide, genuinely pleased grin, "Welcome home, beautiful! Back awfully soon, aren't we?" The look on his face became slightly more amused, slightly more acidic, "I was willing to bet you would've sprung for a hotel so soon after your rebellion."

She shook her head, more at ease now that they'd slipped back to their previous state, "That would have been the wise thing to do."

"But no one ever said you were wise, eh?"

Valentine arched a brow, some amusement dancing in her eyes as she slipped back into her role, "I'm about as wise as you are pretty, Crusty."

"Jealous of my model good looks?"

"Infinitely." A silence hung between them, not awkward but…off. She watched him, slightly confused, as he walked away from her, back towards the desk and the papers. After a moment, she stepped in after him, biting her bottom lip lightly before voicing precisely what was on her mind, "How did you know I'd come back?"

"Because I know you, beautiful. You aren't are unpredictable as you like to think."

"You knew I would choose Gordon over you? You knew I was going to betray you?"

He flashed her a half smile over his shoulder, "Yes.

"And you still were willing to hit me?"

"Does that surprise you?"

She shook her head, "No. But I would like to know how you got it into your head that I would betray you. Do you really have that little faith in me?"

He smacked his lips together, staring at her a little more intently, head cocked slightly down and to the side, "I don't suppose you've ever….beaten a dog before?" At her horrified, mortified, look, he continued, eyebrows knitted together as though stuck in deep concentration, trying to find a way to explain it to her. The nervous twitch clicked in, tongue flicking out to lap at the crusty smears of makeup still caked across his flesh, tone coming out in a slow, lazy drawl, "It's a funny thing really. You see…if you feed a dog some meat…it'll never leave you. Ever. And if you give it what it wants, a new toy, some more meat, well, then that dog'll always come back to you. No matter how many times you beat it."

There was another pause, and a smile, this one cold, "You're like…that dog. A little, lost, puppy, I found by the side of the road. And I gave you the one thing every helpless, simpering, _pathetic_ dog wants," he held his arms out wide, a mockingly affectionate look in his eyes, taunting her, "Attention. And now, no matter how many times I beat you, or cut you, or crush everything you claim to cherish, you'll come crawling back to me, with those, big, puppy eyes of yours."

"Nice to know how you think of me, as always," She shook her head, rolling her eyes, crossing to her own room, throwing her purse onto the bed. The woman ran a hand tiredly through her hair, And to think I came back to apologize." Another groan as his fingers dug deeper into the muscle.

"An apology?" He seemed genuinely confused, tongue flicking to lap at the scars on either side of his mouth, invading her space by strutting into her room, despite her exasperated sigh, going to plop down on her bed, "Now why on earth would I want that?"

"The sorrow and gratitude of another human being? I honestly don't know…" The officer whimpered a little, pulling out a fresh pair of clothes from her dresser. Her cheek was aching, her head hurt. "Look, would you please leave?"

Her demand was pointedly ignored. The grin, artificial or not, widened, becoming more cruel, those crimson lips folding back in an awkward mix of a smirk and a snarl, "I meant. Why would I want your apology when you could do something actually useful for me?"

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like where this is headed?"

She had never imagined the Joker's voice as something that could be either airy or husky. Somehow, in his own odd way, he managed both at once, rising to step fully into her, pinning her between him and the dresser. Unfortunately, she proved more yielding then it. He smirked, seeing the suspicion, and the tell tale traces of fear creeping into her eyes, "Because you won't."

She forced her voice to sound less shaky, more reassured. It fell well short of what she had been hoping to achieve, "I' won't do it for you."

"Hey, doll, I'm not killing you. You _owe_ me."

"Not that much," she tried to take a step back, wiggle away at least slightly, meeting with no success. Only more amusement dancing around in his impossibly dark eyes.

His lips brushed against the skin of her cheek, tracing the high bone and the cut he had so kindly left emblazoned across the flesh, "We both know you're go to do this…" she scowled, her mind wanting to swat him away, her body nodding in a despicable show of treachery. His smile widened, releasing one of her arms so he could bring a hand up to stroke her cheek with an insulting familiarity, "Are you going to do this for me?"

No. "Yes." Damn it!

Oh, how that smirk of his grew wider, taunting her for her weakness. And the same superior quality flirted with his words as he held up some scrap of newspaper for her to see, "Then I need you to get an invite to our friend Bruce's party."

"Alright I'll…." she did a mental double take, knowing very well that her face must have clearing showed the confusion in perfect clarity. "Wait, what was that again?"

"Wayne's party." He batted his eyes innocently, giving the article a shake, allowing her to actually read it this time, "What did you think I had in mind?" Her mouth fell open, almost as though she wanted to say something, and then snapped shut, an embarrassing red color shading her features. He chuckled to himself, letting go of her arms, allowing her to drop to the floor. "Mind out of the gutter, princess. Out of the gutter."

She glared up at him, massaging some feeling back into her numbed arms, "Ha-ha, very funny." It wasn't.

___

Sky: That ending was crap. But I was more comfortable writing this chapter then the previous one. AND I UPDATED!

Joker: You're so stupid.

Valentine: But she did update, so we can at least take comfort in that.

Sky: Yeah, yeah. You two stop fighting. So, in short, I want to thank everyone who reviewed, I adore you guys! And uh...apologize for the rushed crappyness that was the end of the chapter. Till next time, my friends.


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